


the unintended consequences of a failed assassination attempt

by Anonymous



Series: Gundam Seed Time Travel [2]
Category: Gundam SEED, Gundam SEED Destiny
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF, Gen, Politics, Post-Canon, Queerplatonic Relationships, Shinn Is Looking For A RELIABLE Moral Compass, Shinn is Lost And Would Like For Someone To Tell Him What To Do, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:10:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The one-year anniversary of the Battle of Messiah does not pass peacefully. Experimental particle poison supposed to work in vacuum of space is, after all, still experimental. The Archangel fresh in the ruins of Heliopolis does some quick adapting.





	1. Blink, and wake up

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this on my hard drive for years, about 40k words written. But the Gundam Seed fandom is so unfortunately small, it can use any contribution. Or so I figure. It was fun writing. But it's also a bit embarrassing to publish for reasons I can't put my fingers on.

Heliopolis floated before her eyes, wreckage glinting in the emptiness of space. She wondered, briefly and remorseful, if civilians had lost their lives, but in the end it was not something she could dwell on. There were far too many other things occupying her attention, not least of all the lives of her entire crew and the secrets the Archangel carried that she was _not_ learned to be responsible for. 

Lieutenant Badgiruel kept calling for the Strike, and Murrue felt guilt starting to gnaw at her with every moment that the boy didn’t respond. He was just a child who had nothing to do with anything, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She didn’t like where her thoughts were taking her, but they needed him. Desperately.

He had just lost his home before his very eyes, was still missing in the chaos thereafter, and a tiny part of her mind was already making plans for after his return. She was a horrible person.

She hoped, desperately, that Lieutenant La Flaga would be able to take the Strike from him, but if he couldn’t…

The Archangel’s bridge was filled with tension, the stress of a combat-situation still sitting tight, and her eyes cut over to the man of the Seventh Orbital Fleet that they had unexpectedly added to their crew.

He was floating near her seat, eyes also on the depth of space, grim.

An entire colony gone. Of a _neutral nation_. Murrue couldn’t even sigh at that, the political and military implications so many grades above the head of a young Lieutenant like her that she shouldn’t even -

\- _have to watch out of the moon’s surface, it’s too uneven to trust – so altitude, once Cagalli-san’s on board, meanwhile launch mobile suits, establish communication with the Minerva -_

Murrue gasped, all muscles in her body tensing at once, adrenaline kicking in as she glared outside in the distance at the enemy that would try to destroy peace yet _again_.

With her bare eyes she wouldn’t have been able to see them anyway, yet she did a double take.

There was no moon surface to watch out for.

There was no ceremonial camp set up.

There wasn’t rubble of Messiah spewn around.

Oh, rubble there was, but it was distinctly the wrong kind.

In fact, a kick in her stomach reminded her, she was very familiar with the rubble. With t_his exact scene._

Guilt had kept her from forgetting it, and the more the war spun out of control, the more powerful this picture became. This place where everything had seemed to begin.

Murrue _gaped_.

“-amius! _Lieutenant Ramius_!”

Murrue’s head jerked around, down and to the side where to voice came from only to be faced with a woman who’s death she had ordered.

From the CIC, one hand on her headset, Natarle Badgirul stared up at her with a disapproving, hard look. So familiar. The way she seemed to be slightly confused wasn’t.

“_Lieutenant Badigruel?_!”

Natarle frowned, turning in the direction the voice had originated and for the first time alerting her to the fact that it hadn’t, in fact, been Murrue’s voice that expressed that the shocked disbelief she felt.

Murrue tore her eyes away from the dead woman to Arnold, who’s mouth was open, eyes wide and incredulous.

He wore an _Earth Alliance uniform._

Murrue’s head started to spin.

“My rank is Ensign, Chief Petty Officer Neumann,” Natarle corrected sharply. “Merely because the Archangel lacks it’s senior officers does not mean that ours are adapted in accordance.”

He just kept staring at her in disbelief.

He wasn’t the only one.

The entire bridge crew stared as though she was a ghost.

They were all wearing Earth Alliance uniforms.

Murrue looked down at herself, and swallowed hard. Earth Alliance.

“What the hell,” muttered Muu weakly, putting her thoughts nicely into words. “What the...”

Natarle frowned more when people kept staring at her. “Is there something -? We are still at Level One. I believe there is work you need to do, focus on that not whatever distracted you.” She instructed. Her focus dropped form the crew as a whole to Murrue alone. “Lieutenant Ramius, the Strike is not responding.”

_Kira-kun. Kira-kun is good, Kira-kun is safe. Yes, _Murrue thought faintly,_ Kira-kun isn’t dangerous to my mental health to think about. (The Strike -?!)“_Keep trying,” she said weakly. Kira was nice and neutral ground, nothing like what looks to be Heliopolis or the dead woman at her back. Or the uniform she was wearing. Hallucinating, she must be. Her training kept her going along with the flow.

The captain’s communication terminal beeped shrilly and she almost squeaked embarrassingly. Looking at the phone-like terminal as though it might bite her, she accepted the call.

Kojiro-san’s frazzled face appeared on the _Archangel_’s main screen. He looked ready to tear his hair out. “We can’t launch the mobile suits, Captain, they’re gone! One moment to the other, and I swear they were just gone! Even the _Akatsuki!_ Even the _Justice_! Something -” He did a double take. “Wait. What are you _wearing_?”

Murrue stared at him. Distantly, she felt the rest of her command crew, sans Natarle, also stare at him with the same expression of shock. “I’ve got no idea,” she said blankly, faintly. “...We also seem to be floating in the ruins of Heliopolis.”

Kojiro-san blinked, combat stress slowly giving way to incredulity when it seemed she was entirely serious. Murrue felt with him.

“I’ll call you back, remain on stand by.” She ended the call with a fair sense of surrealism.

Natarle’s disapproval was radiating from behind Murrue at what must seem to be a none-sense and unprofessional conversation as the Lieutenant (Ensign?) kept calling out to the Strike.

The connection crackled. Kira’s voice was identifiable, but not his words. A moment later and the connection cleared. “Eh...yes…this is <strike>”</strike> crackle- "Kira Yamato. Kira Yamato, in the..._Strike?_” Bewilderment in tone was obvious, but most important was that he sounded well. Murrue breathed a sigh of relief, slumping a bit.

“That sounded like a question, Kid,” Muu called, tone light, the open channel giving him the option. “If it was a question, you’re probably in good company. Murdock will be waiting for you in the hanger. Think you can find the _Archangel_?” She knew him well, so she heard the ironic tilt at the end.

Kira seemed to hear it as well, because of course he would, he (ought to know) knew Muu well enough to. “...I’ll be back soon,” he said, and the pause before he did, as well as his choice of words was indeed decidedly not like Kira-who-piloted-_Strike_.

Kira had never had what she would refer to as a temper, but he’d been quick to defend himself against their pressure, and quick to respond to their lead once he gave in. The careful deliberation before he spoke on serious matters was a gift from Lacus, one of arguably greater importance than the _Freedom_.

Murrue traded a glance with Muu (no scar, so strange), who’d have caught that as well, and the rest of her crew that she could see in the eye.

“Well,” Muu smiled with wry humour. “Things sure never get boring on this ship, do they.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lieutenant (Captain) Murrue Ramius of the Earth Alliance (Orb Union), temporary (not) Captain of the assault class ship _Archangel_ started her personal fight against the upcoming headache.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When the _Strike_, carrying a defect lifeboat, slid into the hanger with more grace than any flesh-and-blood human being usually achieved in zero-grav Kojiro Murdoch wondered again if he’d gotten clobbered over the head some time without noticing.

When the kid, a head shorter and in civilian dress, clambered out of it he started debating the odds of a serious hallucinatory gas contamination on board.

“Holy _shit_,” breathed Percy, “Is that the _kid_?”

“...He lost a few centimetres. And his fancy new uniform,” observed Jonas, trying for even and bordering on hysterical.

The lifepod remained untouched as the mechanic crew of the _Archangel_ tried to wrap their heads around the situation.

“Oh, come on, what about the ZAFT kid and the _Justice_?” Another of Koijro’s brothers-in-workshoptools wanted to know, whining. “I _just_ finished with the MR Griffons.”

Distantly Kojiro got where Tony was coming from. He didn’t like it when his machines were disappearing either (like, say, _now_), and definitely not before he got some nice new data about the freshly made upgrades.

Still, somehow Kojiro got the feeling that their precious mobile suits (plus pilots getting ready to board) blinking out of existence in front of them was going to be the least of their worries soon.

On the other hand, decidedly missing the point might be the smart thing, here, a distant part of Kojiro’s mind contemplated as the kid stared at them. He touched down, mouth slightly parted in shock, eyes wide.

And Kojiro had to admit, the kid’s face got a lot harder to read over time, but he was still just the kid they knew, and he was _definitely_ struggling with the same problems as they were. “Um,” he said, ever so eloquently, “I think we have a problem?”

...

Kojiro snorted, some tension leaving him, deciding to just roll with it, because, man, it might be the weirdest situation they’ve found themselves in yet, but they _did_ have practice with their world flipping even if it was usually less literal. “That’s one way of putting it. What the hell happened?”

The kid shrugged, lost, some measure of alarm in the way he kept the rest of his body very loose. “I was just getting on the _Minerva_ with Lacus one moment, and the next there’s Heliopolis and the _Strike._” He glanced back at the giant, slightly incredulous, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was there.

Yeah, neither could Kojiro. He’d pointedly not looked in that direction.

Kojiro had a very special place in his heart just for that old lady. The sleek, angular build, the iconic head, the weapon packs that could be worked on separately… It was the basis they all started with. The kid’s first machine, and while all of the _Archangel_ mechanics had helped build the first set of G-weapons, it was this one that they worked on the most, fixed with their sweat and blood, polished with passion.

(It was also the first one that kept them alive, in the time when they had been most insecure, but that was neither here nor there.)

Now, looking at it though….fresh off the assembly line and already an old timer, the poor _Strike._ The best what current technology could produce and it was so very, very below the level of it’s pilot’s skill that it hardly even registered.

It was...disorienting to stand in the hanger of the _Archangel _and have the _Strike_ there, not one of the _Freedom_s.

_Damn_, was it disorienting.

Kojiro marvelled. 

“Did Murrue-san say something? She and Muu-san seemed to,” the kid floundered briefly for words. Kojiro fondly wondered how a ship run by this kid worked. “Erm, be..._here_? I think?”

Jonas snorted.

“Yeah, the Mrs Captain is in the same boat as us,” said Kojiro. Or at least she had better be. “Just wanted us to remain on Stand-By for now.” He scratched his head and looked around again, unable to grasp that this was _real_.

Okay, so, brief recap. What was the situation again? Ruins of Heliopolis, the Mrs said. Damaged escape pod, check. Okay, if Kojiro recalled correctly...they were still at Level One Alert, but they weren’t actually in battle.

The _Strike_ was obviously fine. Maybe a scratch or two, they could fix that. He nodded to himself, and opened his mouth to say something to the kid when he noticed Kira’s attention had drifted from them to the lifeboat, a pensive, troubled expression on his face.

“Tori?” Said the bird, head tilting.

“Oh yeah, we should probably let the people out of that, shouldn’t we?” Kojiro mused.

The kid nodded distractedly. “I’m gonna see the others. Miriallia was the Archangel’s CIC, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah. Last job the Missy said. Then she’d go back to journalism.” Provisionally, Kojiro thought privately. Bouncing back between the Orb military and her interest-turned-profession seemed far more likely. He wished she’d be able to let go of the military permanently. Would be good for her. But she’d spend too much time growing up on the battlefield.

After the kid left Kojiro allowed himself another moment to take in the sheer surrealism before drumming all of his boys and girls (just two ladies, actually) to work.

And when he helped the Orb citizens who just lost their home out of the defect piece of soon-to-be-repurposed scrap-metal only to have his eyes stop on bright, magenta-pink he had a feeling he understood why the kid left as soon as he could.

_Ye-ouch_, he thought. _Hopefully the Missy will have a handle on this._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

The Missy, better known as Miriallia, did not, in fact, have a handle on anything.

Going from CIC and mobile suit coordinating to staring her dead boyfriend in the face was not productive in that sense.

By the time Kira dropped in, Tolle, Sai, and Kuzzy had seemed to come to the conclusion that her sudden freak out (and spluttered none-sense) was a delayed reaction to the life-or-death situation they found themselves in and to seeing their home in pieces on the _Archangel_’s internal access terminal.

Miriallia herself had meanwhile convinced herself that she had either a) died, or b) was hallucinating after being drugged after being captured after having her memory of how she landed in this position wiped, or c) was dreaming a really realistic dream.

Then came in Kira, expression so reserved and sombre that their friends had to immediately swarm him about what was wrong. Kira, who, moments after catching sight of Tolle, had to convince them that no, really, nothing was wrong, he was just crying because, because, Heliopolis, yes, that was it, nothing else, I promise.

Kira, who told them that he dragged in a lifeboat, and if maybe they wanted to go to the hanger and check out of there was anyone they knew on board. He’d stay with Miriallia, and he needed a bit of a break anyway.

Kuzzy, Sai, and Tolle went, not without hesitating. But just looking at them both it was obvious they could use some quiet, and if they stayed together anyway…

Miriallia, despite having crawled into a corner of the bunk and protested any touch, almost lunged after Tolle, heart in her throat.

But it was a long time ago that she was that impulsive with her feelings, so she watched Tolle look at her concernedly as he floated out of the cabin.

Miriallia exhaled.

Kira didn’t say anything, and the expression that had so alarmed the other three turned to her, and she found nothing but the Kira she’d known for the past few years there.

He was obviously just as wrong-footed as she was, and troubled, but that too was nothing new. Nothing to be alarmed about.

“Tolle,” she said tonelessly to her knees, hugging them like a vulnerable little girl who wanted to hide from the world.

Kira heaved a sigh. “Yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Pause. As slow and reserved as Kira tended to be with his observations, she was one of the few people who could outlast him. They could have a conversation stretching over hours but with only a dozen words said on either side. That was them. The them that emerged out of the ruins of Heliopolis, the Marshall Islands, Alaska, Orb, Jachin Due. “But I think...if we want to find out...we’ll have to...go along. There’s nothing else we _can,_ all things considered, do.”

She lifted her face, watching him lean against the opposite bunk. Tori hopped back and forth on his shoulder, picking at his hair. Athrun’s bird. She had not known that, the last time she had seen Tolle. She had not known Athrun, period. 

Kira’s expression was pensive and thoughtful of the kind that only appeared when he used his considerable intelligence to its limits. “Nothing?” She said.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not that I can think of right now; nothing that doesn’t have too many risks whose odds and consequences we can’t calculate right now.”

Hands shaking, Miriallia tucked a strand of hair back in position. Then she stretched her legs, and swung them over the side of the bunk. “I guess I’ll best go see the Captain then.”

He frowned. “You could wait till the others come back.”

“I’d rather have something to do.”

His head titled, understanding evident. She left him to his own thoughts. There was a lot to chew through, and a lot think about. There was a hell of a lot to mentally brace themselves for if this didn’t turn out to be some sort of mass hallucination in the next ten minutes.

Miriallia hoped it was.

The _Archangel _crew she met on the way seemed caught between bewilderment and confusion, something that was only made worse by her. It hadn’t occurred to her until someone had to do a double take, not recognizing her as Miriallia at first, what with her orange dress and her lacking years. Not everyone landed on the extreme side of the displacement-spectrum like her (from CIC in combat situation to cabin), but everyone had more or less noticed the EA uniforms they were wearing by now and were freaked out by it.

But there were also some who looked at her without familiarity, and looked at their comrades strangely when they greeted her by name.

“Attention! This is Murrue Ramius speaking.” A ship-wide announcement. Miriallia turned her attention to it, not quite remembering if the Captain had done such a thing back when she had lived this. “I know that our situation is confusing. However, I wish to remind you all that we _do not know_ what the future brings. That we have a _better _idea what to expect is no need to be lax. We shall do as we have always done, and fulfil our duty. I repeat. This is-”

_A gag order,_ Miriallia identified. _And a course of action._

_We’re the _Archangel_, we will do our mission._

Assuming this was not a more-and-more convenient looking hallucination, their mission was definitely not whatever the EA wanted of them. At this point? From the top of her head, Miriallia couldn’t even remember what the _Archangel_’s original mission was. Bringing combat record, G-weapon intel, and the _Archangel_ to some base to be analysed and mass-produced?

She pondered it for a moment before ultimately deciding on it being irrelevant.

The _Archangel _was Orb’s ship. Terminal’s ship. The Three Ship Alliance’s ship.

Their top mission was always clear, and the parameters sufficiently vague that they could even be applied to their current situation.

_Orders, disguised as a moral lifting address of the Captain for those unaffected. _Ticking in a request for access at the lock of the bridge’s vacuum-sealed doors, Miriallia smiled a bit. _Nice, Murrue-san._

She was granted permission, pushed off the wall and pulled up short, seeing Lieutenant Badgirul.

The woman was alive, and frowning at her.

The Captain smiled at her from the Captain’s chair behind the woman’s shoulder, strained but sincere. “Miriallia-san, was it? What can I do for you?”

Commander La Flaga grinned when Miriallia’s gaze went around, rising both eyebrows and wiggling them. When she looked at the others of the bridge she found that they seemed to be relieved to see her. _The more in the crazy pot, the less lonely it is, huh?_

Not without a hint of irony, she said for exactly one person, “I wanted to ask if I could volunteer. The _Archangel_ is understaffed, isn’t she. I went to Morgenröte’s technological college, so I thought I’d have the background.”


	2. Blink, and start plotting

“Hey Kid, guys, people, come on, let’s gather a bit, we’ve got some discussing to do.”

Kira looked up from the _Strike’s_ system analysis he had running to re-familiarize himself with the machine (among other things), to see Muu-san floating over to the _Strike_, a half grin on his face that was more fixed than sincere.

“Hey, Commander,” Murdoch-san greeted, displaying the mechanic crew’s remarkable adaption speed. Nowadays they didn’t even blink an eye anymore if an unfamiliar mobile suit dropped by; they just repaired it, no questions asked. Must be helping them out now. “Have you come to solve the mystery of the world for us?”

Muu-san snorted as he touched down. Kira halted the analysis and turned away from the console that was attached to the _Strike_. “More like, crazy universe or not, we’re still in a dangerous situation and we can’t just assume it’s not real, cause then we’d die, no matter how much we’d like to to deal with more important things. So we’re gonna talk strategy. Any ideas, Kid?”

“Not really, except we were originally set to head to _Artemis_ after this, right?” Kira prompted rhetorically. “I’d suggest avoiding it.”

The mechanics and Muu-san grimaced at the mere thought of the station. “No kidding. Thankfully the Miss Lieutenant Junior Grade,” some shock that he was really talking about her leaked through his voice at that, “wasn’t too set on _Artemis._ We already passed it off as a bad idea, potentially leaking military secrets and all that.” He shrugged, conveying his thought of what utter none-sense that was. “The course is set to head directly towards the debris belt now. We can get what we need there.”

_ And Lacus, _ Kira thought, but didn’t voice it. Anxiety gnawed at him, as it always did when he didn’t know if everyone was safe.

“Sounds good to me,” said Murdoch-san, pen between his teeth. “So what’s the problem?”

Muu-san grimaced some more, looking at Kira.

“Athrun,” Kira said for him, because that had been the second thing on his mind after the first shock got processed. “The _Minerva_’s crew.”

Murdoch-san blinked, then his eyes widened in alarm. “Oh shit.” He looked from one to the other. “Oh _shit._”

Kira smiled slightly but without humour.

“The ZAFT kid was _Aegis_’ pilot, wasn’t he?” said Percy-san. “No offence to him, but what’s stopping him from boarding here? None of us are gonna care if he also dropped a head in height.”

Kira bit the inside of his lip, picturing Athrun’s face if he heard that.

“It’s not that,” Kira said. His fingers played with his long, loose sleeves to distract himself. “That the people within a certain radius of ‘something’ were ‘affected’ by ‘something’ that ‘caused’ us to be ‘here’ is an assumption we can make, but not one we can base our actions on.” Using all those worlds loosely, he thought for a brief moment how to explain best. “So long as we don’t know what ‘caused’ ‘this’, or even _what ‘this’ is_, we don’t know its effects, and that means that it’s just as possible that the only people affected were those who were on the _Archangel_ for a certain amount of time. Or perhaps who ate a certain kind of food in a certain order last year.” He shrugged as confident as he could make himself, Tori hopping from shoulder to head. “We’ll first have to have to engage the Le Creuset Team once before we can confirm anything. Athrun, if he is the ‘same’ as us, will work off a similar theory. This is war and we feel real enough to consider risk as something to be avoided. Even then there is the question, if we are working with a ‘spatial factor’, how far reaching the ‘area of effect’ was, who else was affected.”

Assuming, assuming, assuming. There were so many assumptions Kira was basing even this theory on, he didn’t even know where to start. Frankly, logic said, them being here, looking as they did was impossible. Yet here they _seemed _to be.

The only thing they could rule out so far was that the entire universe suffered the same..._symptoms_. Or else his friends would be the same. It was not even all of those who were alive, because Sai and Kuzzy weren’t..._aware_.

Kira dearly hoped that regardless of...well, _everything_, that Athrun was _Athrun_. The thought that he would be this time-place’s pilot of the _Aegis_, not the one Kira almost killed, was almost killed by, was too hard to bear. His stomach twisted with nausea.

Athrun.

Cagalli.

Lacus.

“Working out the radius of a spatial theory will be fairly easy to confirm for Athrun. The _Voltaire_ was one of the _Minerva_’s escort ships, and Yzark is part of the Le Creuset Team,” he added, “but that means that we potentially have one to three ZAFT crews just as lost as we are, and they are probably far more scattered than us. Athrun,” and Lacus, “will have his hands full with that.” Kira smiled a bit, a sad tinge to it. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing the _Aegis_ here soon.”

“Huh,” said Murdoch-san, the pen between his teeth bobbing up and down. “Yeah, looking at it like that...shame. Always wanted to see what sort of modifications I could make to it.”

“Gotcha,” said Muu-san nodding thoughtfully, accepting Kira’s insight on the ZAFT side of things and the implications as the best they had to work off at the moment. “That means we’ll really have to operate as if we’re alone. As if this is real. Can’t lose the _Archangel_ after all. Even in a dream.” He rubbed his chin. “And we’ll be depending on you for our protection again. Sorry, Kid.”

Kira shrugged, not minding it. And he didn’t. He’d grown enough to accept it. And had grown used it. Commanding the _Minerva_ was very different in that respect. With Shinn and Lunamaria, there was hardly any need for him as a pilot. “I’ll write a Natural sub-system. That way if something comes up you can take over.”

“Thanks.”

“But speaking of the _Strike_,” said Murdoch-san, eyeing the Commander shrewdly. “It’s a beautiful machine and all, but think we can get permission to make some modifications?”

Muu-san greeted the look, one that was shared by most of the team, with appropriate weariness. “_What_ modifications?”

“We-ell,” the older man smirked.

Tony-san cleared his throat. “We were thinking, Commander, I mean let’s be serious here, the _Strike_ is our baby, no two ways about it, but -”

“ - but if you think it’s anything but several degrees of magnitude substandard for the kid here, you’ll need to get your head checked. Again. No offence.” Finished Percy-san.

Muu-san shot them all a horribly dry look before turning to face the _Strike_ a bit better, a smile working its way onto his face; a bit nostalgic and a bit wistful. Once the moment was over, he glanced at Kira, corner of his mouth twitching in a way that made Kira want to leave,_ now,_ or risk fifty-fifty odds of getting teased out of ten lives.

The last time he’d seen that smile, Kira had just mentioned that he’d be going to PLANT to join Lacus. Muu-san had innocently enquired if _Kira_ would be joining _ZAFT_. Kira had made the mistake of replying in the positive. He’d_ not heard the end_ of how after so many years of protesting, he finally gave in.

“Oh? What sort of modifications do you have in mind?” Aaaand there was the innocent lead question.

Kira turned around, excusing himself wordlessly from the conversation, back to the console in feeble hopes of escape. He was safer diving into the _Strike_’s OS, and the ideas were mostly the mechanics’ anyway, so Kira really wasn’t needed.

“Well, know how the kid’s so fond of Full Burst? The _Strike_ clearly doesn’t have the capabilities, but, well. We’ll have to test it out, mind, run some tests, but...you know what let the kid explain,” said Murdoch-san, “it was his idea anyway.”

_ Damn it. _

“Tori?” said Tori as Kira’s shoulders slumped.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Some time later, the creator of Tori was engaging the hamster in his mind, because nothing in his life made sense. From the people who talked to him, to how they spoke, to how he was dressed, to where he was, to what he was doing.

No more than two meters away sat his dead, genocidal father with his dead, genocidal ex-commander and they were discussing things that Athrun, frankly, did not want to listen to.

It occurred to him, belatedly, ever the analytical mind, that if he had mentioned Kira to his ex-commander, and would now be listening to his ex-commander and his father discuss hiding critical information from the Supreme Council, he would have one piece of evidence already in place with which to string a metaphorical noose around his ex-commander’s neck.

But shielding Kira from Le Creuset was deeply ingrained instinct after Mendel and Jachin Due (never mind that it was too late at that point), so Athrun had evaded the truth to the best of his capabilities when questioned why he sortied without orders.

Athrun had just wanted _out _of that office before he did something stupid.

And here he was, in close quarters yet again with the last two people in the world he wanted to be. It physically hurt to breathe, eyes drifting to his father every other moment.

Chin in his palm, elbow on the armrest, he checked that his face was still schooled into a blank soldier mask, and found himself circling through his options. Again.

The battle with the _Archangel _that he had desperately clung to as a hope of the world making sense again had not happened because the ship had not taken the expected course towards _Artemis_.

The implications were appreciative, but that did not mean that Athrun was any better off determining how the land lay. Or that he felt any less crazy.

Lacus, the next best option to seek out, would not be on the PLANTs because she was busy with preparations for the _Junius_ _Seven_ Memorial. He had no way to seek her out, no way to make contact, no option to stop the _Silverwind _from heading towards its doom. No way of protecting Lacus.

Yzark and Dearka were the highly competent, highly educated, and highly bigoted pilots they were at this age, thus entirely unhelpful, and Nicol (seemed) alive and had wished him good luck in his report to the Council.

Cagalli, if she wasn’t still in an escape pod, was a princess of a foreign nation and not someone he could just call up, even if the N-Jammers didn’t make long range communication neigh on impossible.

All in all, he wasn’t able to gather a single piece of evidence to build a solid theory of _what the hell _was going on.

(His father was alive!)

So far indications still stood that at least some others beside him were affected by this strange phenomenon that Athrun didn’t even dare label in his head.

If the _Archangel_ was _the_ _Archangel, _the one that Athrun called mother-ship, as the seemingly reasonless avoidance of _Artemis_ hinted at, then chances stood good the _Minerva_ was also caught up in this mess. The problem was that Athrun and the _Minerva_ had a complicated relationship. Besides that, he didn’t even know any of them well enough to even guess at how he could contact them at this point in time.

Meaning that he would be giving his report to the Supreme Council, had nothing to give Chairman Clyne that would arouse the man’s suspicions about Le Creuset (and his father), and would probably be returning to the battlefield to (hopefully) retrieve Lacus.

That was still a week away.

As history showed, Athrun was not that good at doing nothing. Some could even say it bred overall bad decisions.

(His father was alive and well and had not yet committed to genocide(?)! Athrun had to -)

Fortunately for him, Athrun was not alone, and he had friends in the PLANTs that he could speak to, no matter what his responsible, guilt-taking nature tended to make him think.

That’s why, when he checked his ZAFT messaging account from base and found a mail addressed to him with the caption ‘Red-winged Knight’, he almost spit the water he was sipping all over the screen.

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“Are you sure he’s coming?” Lunamaria grouched (_again_), head resting in her palms as they sat in a nice cafe on Aprilius One.

“Don’t worry, Onee-chan,” her little sister replied (again). “I made sure it was understandable.”

“Yeah?” Lunamaria’s gaze drifted over the other costumers, looking for a figure that would not, she knew, actually be dressed in Orb’s blue-whites. “Didn’t look like that to me.”

Meyrin lowered her ‘pad to give her a stern look. It might have worked at eighteen, but on her thirteen-year old face it looked like a pout. “I know what I’m doing, I just had to be careful because ZAFT scans for codes. I had to pass it off as something innocent.”

“And an advertisement for a new toy-soldier was the way to go?” She said dubiously. “How do you even know when he’s on _Aprilius_? The Le Creuset Squad wasn’t exactly famous for its time off.”

Meyrin didn’t dignify that with a reply without actually coming across as not-dignifying-with-a-reply. Instead she seemed innocently engaged in a gossip rag about Lady Lacus that she’d downloaded to her ‘pad just to be sure she missed _nothing_.

Luna wondered, without really wanting to know, what it was her little sister was really doing with that thing. Maybe she had already cracked all of ZAFT’s secret databases?

The door jingled, Luna send it an obligatory glance, ready to continue needle her sister only to do a badly concealed double take.

Athrun’s searching gaze had settled on them nearly at the same time and Lunamaria was not displeased to note that she a) didn’t feel annoyed at the sight of him, and that b) he seemed to be no better adjusted to their situation than them.

With a tiny spark of gleeful pleasure, she thought they might actually dealing with this better than he was, if his awkward disbelief as he made his way towards them was any indication.

(On an entirely different note, it was unfair that he still looked so cool regressed to a fifteen year old uncomfortable in his own skin. Some people had all the luck.)

He smiled a bit, daring to let some relief show. _Damn him for being so charismatic_, Lunamaria grouched.

It was her good, sisterly right to hold a grudge against him till the end of forever. Why did he have to make it so difficult? Just a hint that he’s happy to see them should not negate risking her sister’s life, betraying their trust (even if it was for Reasons), deserting, risking her sister’s life more, and then just staying in Orb.

“Athrun-san,” Meyrin greeted, smiling happily.

He sat down, a casual-wear coat taken from him by the waitress, because this was after all a cafe on Aprilius One and thus high class. And expensive. “Lunamaria, Meyrin.” To Lunamaria’s sister he said, “that was really good work with the mail.”

_Damn him_, Lunamaria sighed internally, not even feeling bitter anymore. In the time Athrun spend away from the _Minerva_ Lunamaria learned at least as much about him as she did when they’d still been crewmates, so she now knew to read that as an expression of gratitude and relief whereas before she’d have interpreted it as him being reserved and not-_yet_-willing-to-open-up.

“Speaking of faces,” Luna said, chewing on a straw and smirking around it, “Athrun Zala with baby fat. Never would have thought I’d see the day.” _Teasing him is much more fun than being upset with him._

As she’d expected, Athrun’s cheeks turned red and his back became a bit stiffer all the while he tried to ignore her comment.

Luna’s smirk widened. Ah, so many opportunities lost to misunderstandings and difference in rank. She grieved them.

“Lunamaria,” he said, in _that _tone, but she was having none of it, instead stretching her arms over her head, her legs under the table.

“Ah, I missed this,” she said seemingly to no one at all. “My youthful fourteen-year-old body, not yet burdened by the weight of womanhood. Didn’t you, Meyrin?”

Meyrin’s face turned as red as her hair, scandalized. “Onee-chan!”

Equally red, Athrun closed his eyes tightly and seemingly tried to will his blush away, Lunamaria’s comment to the other side of the galaxy, and himself into the next best MS cockpit to flee with.

_Sooo_ many missed opportunities. If only Lunamaria had known that wise and experienced and lauded senpai Athrun Zala was actually an awkward, reserved, gentelman-minded guy hiding behind professionalism. She’d have done many things differently.

“Lunamaria,” he said, significantly more pained, eyes still closed, but blush leaving, “can we please focus on the matter at hand.”

She sighed dramatically. “Yeah, sure. It’s not like we came all the way to Aprilius just to tease you.”

Athrun opened his eyes. “_Thank_ you,” he said, and meant it, which meant Luna would now feel guilty if she tried again. Tactics For Dealing With Athrun Zala #1: Do not try to make fun at his expense. He will make you feel guilty for it. Without meaning to. Do not get angry, Shinn.

And from one moment to another all levity fled. “The _Archangel _took action other than expected, but beyond that nothing. Nothing with Yzark and Dearka, even though they were providing escort, weren’t they?”

The last bit was directed at Meyrin, who nodded and tapped something into her little toy. “Luna and I got in contact with Vino and Yolan, and they said they were going to reach out through the mechanics. I didn’t dare send something to Trine-san, but Malik-san said he’d try. Malik-san is also in the military already, so that might work. Luna also got a hold of Dr. Janson. I think we’ll have contact with the entire crew soon. Except Shinn, he’s in Orb. And Kira-san.”

“Meyrin has been networking,” Luna revealed.

Athrun smiled fondly. The waitress came and brought coffee for him. Athrun thanked her and lifted the cup to his lips. “That’s good to hear. I’ll have something good to tell Kira when I see him the next time.”

Luna sat up straight and Meyrin’s head jerked away from her screen. Athrun blinked at them, caught between concern, weariness and confusion. “What is it?”

“You know where Kira-san is?” Meyrin wanted to know, leaning forward hopefully and added, almost manic, “You can _get in contact with him_?”

“I don’t know where she poked her nose, and I don’t want to, but she said she couldn’t find him,” Lunamaria added. “We assumed that he’s an Orb citizen, so most likely on Earth with Shinn. Hopefully. You know, if, if, if. But if you can get in contact with him, he’s not-?”

Orb was, after all, not exactly allied with them. Communications between Earth and PLANTs for civilians was difficult enough even on good terms, and a continuing headache for the military. They had reluctantly concluded that they’d have to give up on getting their second Captain/Commander within keeping-out-of-trouble sight and trust that he could well manage without them.

(Which was, rationally speaking, a considerably stupid thing to worry about, but Kira-san was, in Athrun’s words ‘good-natured, naive, and didn’t think things through.’ Survivor of two wars or not, pilot of the freaking Freedom or not, bizarrely competent commander or not, anyone who’d spent thirty minutes talking to him outside of Condition Red would find themselves tearing their hair out because of how spot on that description was. He was emotionally too easily taken advantage off! Someone had to do something!)

(The fact that he and Athrun shared that impossible characteristic, just hiding it better, and that by all means they should have kept just as sharp an eye on Athrun was unfortunately another thing that fell through the cracks. Maybe if Athrun had just said something!)

(Athrun was Orb’s problem now, though, with him as one of their very, very few high tier military officers. Lunamaria felt for them, she really did, but Kira-san was enough to worry about and Lunamaria did not want to be the person who would have to tell their adored Chairwoman that they, a crew of over a hundred people of the best warship of ZAFT, managed to misplace her boyfriend-lover-fiancé.)

(So, considering, Lunamaria and Meyrin had been walking up the walls with anxiety and pretending they weren’t.)

(Luna did not want to know what someone who could still teacher her little hacking-into-military-base-in-under-five-minutes sister something about software and with a strong set of morals could get into in this great horrible mess that was the First Bloody Valentine’s War.)

(...like that one time, when Kira-san had been late for a meeting, and they’d scrambled around looking for him, only to find him detained by base security because they didn’t believe him when he said he was ZAFT...or that one time with the civilian mother-and-kid-and-Blue-Cosmos situation...or when he’d gotten taken hostage by an escaped prisoner...Luna’s hairs stood on end just thinking about. )

The expression that suddenly came across Athrun’s face made something in her stomach twist nervously, not helping at all. For a long moment he said nothing, looking into his coffee, then his expression firmed, and he said, “what do you know of Kira’s situation in the first war?”

Going by that tone, Atrhun already seemed to be able to guess that the answer was ‘not much,’ and was not surprised at all by it. Something in his eyes became shuttered, and the twist of his mouth would be reluctance on anyone else, but definitely carried a note of pain on him when they could not reply anything beyond, “piloted _Freedom_.”

That twist was more than familiar to Lunamaria, and now when she thought back to it, the first time she’d seen it was back before he’d even re-joined ZAFT. Back when she’d thought she’d just need to poke at him a bit and he’d oblige them with heroic stories of his deeds. Back when she’d had no idea of anything.

(It wasn’t even funny in hindsight. Her own self made her sick. War was nothing heroic, and Athrun would never brag.)

“Before _Freedom_, he piloted _Strike_.” Athrun said quietly, very close to even, and to anyone who knew him that was a HINT. As if the words weren’t like a sledgehammer to the head themselves. “He should be with the _Archangel_ right now.” Aaaand suddenly it made so much sense why he opened this conversation with that ship.

“...Huh,” said Luna for lack of anything better to say, trying to wrap her head around that. _Strike_, huh? That was unexpected. On the other hand, considering Kira-san, who else could have been the bogeyman of ZAFT?

If she remembered her military history, the _Freedom_ pretty much tagged the _Strike_ out on the role, only significantly more benign, a lot more high profile, and 100% more inspiring. Waaait… “OMNI?”

“There were...extenuating circumstances,” Athrun said tightly, unhappily.

“Of course.” Lunamaria nodded to herself, spine against the back of the chair and head tiled so that she stared at the ceiling. So that she would not have to look at Athrun and _wonder_. 

(Didn’t he – )

(But weren’t they -)

(How did -)

“So he’s got someone looking out for him now?”

Athrun’s tone was wry. “He _can_ take care of himself, you know.”

“As if that counts when you say that.” _As if you aren’t the one Meyrin copied her busybody concern for Kira-san from_, she would have tossed in, but that tasted a bit bitter right now. _Aegis _Athrun, _Strike_ Kira. Ignorant, ignorant little girl that she had been didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

Athrun sighed deeply, tone less like _that_, and Lunamaria tore her gaze from the ceiling. “Unfortunately, with the _Archangel_ being the _Archangel_, he wouldn’t be able to just leave them. She has a good part of ZAFT’s space fleet on her tail. If the pilot were anyone but Kira...”

Lunamaria groaned.

“Pretty much,” Athrun agreed wryly.

“So that means that at the moment Kira-san can only be reached via OMNI channels or on the field?” Meyrin wanted to know, a slight frown between her brows. Luna didn’t like how she held her ‘pad. She’d definitely try hacking OMNI. She’d done far less illegal and dangerous things in the last ten days.

“Not even that,” refuted Athrun. “The _Archangel_ is at this point for the most part cut off from its allies. No communications with anyone, no support in any form, and that stayed mostly that way until Alaska.”

Lunamaria stared at him, unimpressed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Athrun just shrugged helplessly, no more able to explain the EA’s stupidity-slash-incompetence than she was. “I talked with him mostly through comms,” during combat, “but that isn’t the most efficient way.”

_I.e. you knew him before _Freedom_ and _Justice_ joined up. I.e. you flaunted military protocol and secrecy to talk with your nominal enemy in the midst of battle. I.e. you knew him (to what degree?) when you destroyed _Strike_._

Lunamaria _did not_ want to know more, but now that she knew there was something to look out for, her coordinator mind automatically shelved the info somewhere in her brain.

“Athrun-san, when do you expect to encounter Kira-san next?” Meyrin asked thoughtfully, biting her lip.

Athrun exhaled. “This week. In a battle near the debris field. But perhaps not, if the _Archangel_ manages to avoid the _Gamow,_ and the _Vesalius _when we head out again, then perhaps not until the battle with the Eighth Orbital Fleet, and that’s weeks away.”

“And that’s all _assuming_, of course,” said Lunamaria. Assuming Kira-san was the same as them. Inexplicably, if not, that might actually be _worse_.

Athrun said nothing. No doubt he agreed.

“Well, I’m not going to be doing nothing,” she announced. “I wonder if I can set a new record at the academy and graduate early.”

“I’m too young to enlist,” said Meyrin, troubled. “But maybe...”

Athrun looked at them fondly, and maybe a pit put upon. “You should just get in contact with Lacus when she’s back.”

Meyrin nodded immediately.

“The Clyne Fraction is still forming,” he continued. “But it’s a public movement much more than an organization at this point. And age doesn’t matter for protests.”

Lunamaria was still doubtful. “But what if Lacus-sama isn’t…?”

Athrun smiled. “It shouldn’t matter. The will to help is everything that matters to Lacus. If you are old enough to have an awareness of good and bad, right and wrong, war and peace, I don’t think Lacus would discourage anyone from calling out for peace. Though she might advise moderation.”

Luna traded a glance with Meyrin and found her sister nodding in total agreement on this assessment. With a shrug, she decided she didn’t care more than that. “Okay then.” She took a sip of ice-tea through her chewed straw. “So, Athrun, there’s still something – it’s about Shinn...”

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Shinn opened the door of his destroyed home where he was living with his dead family, already irritated because the guest didn’t have the grace to ring the bell once and then wait. No, they had to keep it ringing non-stop.

He opened the door, and almost threw it shut again. Would have, actually, if a foot hadn’t slipped in.

Shinn scowled at the limb’s owner and debated finding a knife.

Princess of Orb, her Royal Highness Cagalli Yula Attha scowled right back.

He let off finding something sharp and pointed to remove the offending appendage only because just outside the yard’s gate a well-built man screaming _bodyguard_ watched them.

“Who is it, Shinn?” The male voice of his nightmares shouted from the house.

Before Shinn could shout something back, the damn princess latched her hand into his shirt and pulled him far too much into her personal space. About to slap her hand away and regain his distance, he froze when her dark expression transformed into a creepy mockery of a smile.

“Now, is that a way to greet your long-time friend who you had been so very concerned about when you heard about Heliopolis that you even _raised hell in front of the Attha Estate_?”

Shinn recoiled in disgust.

The princess jerked him closer. “Try harder. Do you or do you not want an in?”

The bodyguard over her shoulder was watching them suspiciously. Shinn forced his face into as friendly a grimace as he could manage before he glared into the hazel eyes again. “_Not _here.”

“Shinn?” His father called again.

“Who is it?” Mayu’s voice wanted to know. Still early, and on a Saturday, they were all home. Shinn did _not_ want any Attha in the same breathing space as them.

“No one!” He shouted back before they could get any ideas like _come check_.

She let him go, and Shinn just took long enough to grab a jacket against the cool early February weather before he closed the door behind him with a shout of “I’m going out!”, ignoring any protests.

The princess gave him a quick once over, eyes cool and assessing, before turning around to her bodyguard, scowling. That scowl was nothing like that one she’d given him. It had a lot less malice. “See, Kisaka, I told you. Just because I didn’t tell _you_ or Father where I was going doesn’t mean I didn’t tell anyone. Shinn knew, but I’d made him promise not to say anything, that’s why he came across as on a riot.”

For the life of him, Shinn couldn’t get himself to nod along. He admitted that it might have been a tad impulsive to scream at the Attha house for the damn (wonderful) nightmare he’s found himself in and to demand to see their damn Chief Representative before security had escorted him (with trouble) home, but what was he supposed to think?

His family was dead. Before his eyes. Dead without any body to bury, and he could still not admit that to himself some days, that nothing he did could bring them back.

And then there he was, sitting in class, when he should have been launching in _Destiny_.

And then, there Mayu was, waiting for him to walk home together.

And then, there his mother was, welcoming them home.

And then his father came, after a long day of work, and they were whole again.

That was, predictably, when Shinn had bolted.

Maybe there was no rational reason for that any of this could be Attha’s fault, but who _else_ could conceivably been at fault? The Atthas brought bad luck and disaster. The end.

The Chief Representative that Shinn had tried to kill a couple times continued to lie through her teeth. “- I don’t care what Father says! I don’t need my life monitored twenty four seven! Yes, I can have friends security doesn’t know about! Do you think I’m stupid! Of course I know he has me followed! How else do you think I slipped them to go to Heliopolis?!”

See? Case in point. Attha at Heliopolis, and Heliopolis promptly fell to dust.

“Come on, Shinn,” she took him by the arm and marched pointedly past her guard and the car she doubtlessly came with. It took all of Shinn’s self-control to not tear his arm loose and dig his elbow into her gut.

The moment he felt the show had been convincingly delivered he jerked himself free nonetheless. They weren’t even out of sight yet.

She didn’t care. Neither did he.

“Let’s get this out of the way with,” she muttered darkly. Voice a bit louder, she continued, “we recognize each other, so obviously yes, something seems to be going that’s not just an annoyingly vivid dream. No, I have no idea what is happening, or why. No, we’re not the only ones. The _Archangel_ crewmembers currently stationed in Orb don’t have any idea either. No, I haven’t been able to get in contact with anyone else. Yes, from what intelligence we have, it seems like the _Archangel_ as a whole is the same – _Artemis_ not being gone is a big hint if that tells you anything. No, I have no idea about anyone else. Now you.”

Shinn stuffed his hands in his pockets scowled at her. “What? I’m just a civilian kid. Not a princess with contacts and a whole military. Why the hell do you think I wanted to talk to you if not for that.”

Cagalli was unimpressed. “So, you have nothing. Wonderful.”

Sneering, Shinn was about to give a biting retort when he noticed that she didn’t even pay attention to him anymore, instead checking something on her mobile. “Hey!”

“Hey what?!” She snapped right back before shoving the device in his face. “Memorize it. My personal contact.”

With supreme effort, Shinn managed not to growl. It cost another minute of convincing himself that not doing so would leave him without options and, worse, helpless.

“What’s yours?” She demanded when he’d scanned it twice.

“What?”

“Your number, or mail, or whatever. Something you check regularly. I’m _not_ making personal visits every time something comes up.”

He sneered. “Why don’t you just ask your personal army? Or don’t tell me the great Orb military can’t even find a Junior High student’s contact.”

She glared at him coldly. “Just thought you wouldn’t have wanted your privacy invaded with all the questions one such request from we would bring up. Not to mention that we are _long-time friends._ Who communicated not face-to-face. How terribly _odd_ would it be to ask my _personal army_ to ask for the contact information of my _long-time friend_.” She mocked, reminding him of the lie she spun to cover him.

Shinn fought the urge to strangle her. He had no idea what it was, but the damn princess of damn Orb just rubbed him the wrong way. He usually had better control over his temper, damn it! He did! He snatched the phone from her, punched in the info, and almost tossed it back in her face.

“Finally,” she scowled. They’d been travelling along the sidewalk, nothing more inconspicuous than that after all, and now she turned around marching back in the direction of her bodyguard, her car, and Shinn’s not destroyed home.

Shinn kept walking, needing to cool his head and hoping for some distraction. Damn, whoever could tolerate that woman had to be an angel.


	3. Blink, and try

Incidentally, the one woman in the world who most could agree deserved to be called an angel was doing nothing to disabuse her companions of that notion even though she herself felt far from it. If she were an angel, she would be able to protect these people so kindly giving her their aid, for one.

The crew of the _Silverwind_ were of course all convinced followers of Siegel Clyne, and ferrying his daughter back and forth to help prepare a ceremony for their people’s greatest tragedy was nothing but an honour, and the young idol was a delight to be around any time of the day, but they had not quite understood yet that she was a force to be reckoned with herself. 

Observing her arguing the officers of the Earth Forces’ ship that had insisted on ‘inspecting’ their ship to, no doubt, find a reason to put them down, into a corner, all the while mild in speech and demeanour was a sight to behold.

(It was all Lacus could do. It was not quite what she had managed once, for all the good it does...)

On the other hand, the EA did nothing to disabuse the crew of the notion that Blue Cosmos’ influence was all-present and that Naturals must be treated with caution.

No doubt, had the situation extended much further the Lady Lacus’ dutiful aids would have removed her from the situation, and then put her into a lifepod with prayers for her swift rescue.

She is right, and not even the ‘inspectors’ could refute her logic, or her heartfelt appeal, but that humiliation and the fact that she could, in fact, be _right_, that they were _wrong_, made them afraid of her.

They were afraid of being wrong, and so would kill the one who showed them. That was human nature.

“I know,” said Lady Lacus sadly when presented with the reasons why she should now leave the discussion up the Captain, why she must now evacuate. “Happy! Happy!” Chirped her toy. “But I must try for we can learn. From our mistakes, from other people, and from ourselves; we are all only humans. How could we truly, deeply wish to harm another?”

If the ‘inspectors’ decided to kill her in person there was nothing they could do, they had no weapons. But if the Naturals returned to their own ship, then that gave them a window of opportunity to spirit her away. To entrust her to the ghosts of Junius Seven, who would surely protect her.

“Lacus-sama, this way please,” Julia-san said, more than willing to take on the responsibility of seeing their charge to the lifepod, for the EA officers would soon be leaving their ship, the Captain was just seeing them to their shuttle. Their willingness to humour their innocent cause was near on empty. The Lady Lacus looked sadly, so very sadly at the Haro in her palms, and it flapped its large ears. “Lacus! Lacus!”

It was just as they were about to leave the cockpit when the radars bleeped.

Lacus halted, catching herself at the door.

“Lacus-sama, please,” Julia-san tried to insist, putting a hand on her shoulder.

However the lady had only eyes for the viewscreen, the expression on her face difficult to describe. She seemed torn between wistfulness and hope. “Tell me, Aaron-san, is it a ship?”

The helmsman, one of only two people who were necessary on the bridge of a relatively small civilian ship, shook his head. “Our scanners are not equipped for long range, we cannot tell until we get much closer. Still, the chances of it being a ZAFT ship in this region, and the lack of N-Jammer interference, my Lady…”

“I understand,” said Lady Lacus, before she seemed to come to a decision, “but is it possible to open communications?”

The man and the woman startled. Meanwhile, the call came up from the Captain that the EA shuttle had departed.

“Lacus-sama,” Julia-san tried again, more insistently. “Please. You must evacuate now.”

But the Lady was not willing, not quite yet to give up on all these people’s lives, her gaze prompting Aaron-san to reply. “If we use the international rescue channel, it should be possible.”

“Then, please, there is no harm in trying,” she said as she reached for the _Silverwind_’s comm-system.

“Unknown ship, please respond. This is the civilian transport, _Silverwind_.”

The first one to react to her call was the _Thorn_, them wanting to know indignantly what they were up to, but then the connection crackled, and the voice of a woman responded. “_Silverwind_, this is the EA Forces, _Archangel_, Acting Captain Ramius speaking. We read your coordinates, ETA 0010. What manner of aid do you require?”

Lady Lacus smiled, and the hope that bloomed in her eyes was like the sun after a rainy day. “We would be grateful if you could take over peaceful negotiations with the EA ship,_ Thorn_.”

The connection crackled again, the video feed earning victory against interference. Indeed, the woman on screen wore an EA uniform, and she was young. But she smiled, if a bit hard around the edges. She turned her head slightly to listen to the readout a member of her crew relayed before she turned back to them. “Affirmative, _Silverwind_. Remain on Stand By.” And the connection broke.

Only for the system to beep alive a moment after. Aaron-san looked like did not quite know what to do with it, and Julia-san once more tugged on Lady Lacus. This time the Lady went, the quiet air of resignation around her completely gone. “We’re being hailed on a private channel by the _Archangel_,” he said, just before she left the cockpit.

“Please take over from here now, Aaron-san,” she said sweetly. “I’m sure we can trust Miss Ramius.”

“Haro! Haro!” Her toy agreed.

And indeed they could. Though the _Silverwind _did not know the means what was communicated between the two ships, by the time it their screens were able to display the white-red never-seen-before ship, the entire crew had, on orders of their Captain, evacuated on request of the _Archangel_. Just in case, the warship’s communications officer said.

The _Archangel_’s portside launcher opened, though no mobile weapon was released or could, in fact, even be identified.

When the _Thorn_ did not oblige the bigger, but still allied ship’s request to shut down their weaponsystems, believing that the it was a mere bluff of an inexperienced Acting Captain that they would even open fire on fellow EA ships if they threatened the lives of civilians and completely sullied the honour of their forces.

The _Thorn_ had good reasons to assume so as the _Archangel _made no move to activate their own systems. Incidentally, the _Archangel_’s XO assumed the same. What they did not know was that the _Archangel_ did not need to warm their weapons up. They would shoot, yes, and on their allies if the situation required it. But this situation did not require sentencing the people to a fiery death.

That was why the _Archangel_’s hangerbay was opened. Inside, the ship’s only mobile suit was equipped with its Launcher Striker and held position aimed on the _Thorn_’s main canons. The _Archangel_ was close enough now that he did not need to launch and aggravate the situation, for aggravate it the sight of a mobile suit would. The _Strike _was the EA’s lone MS at this point after all, and a military secret besides. 

Miriallia relayed the_ Archangel’_s scanner’s readouts to him, allowing for optimal sniping conditions. Kira was not a sniper by any means, but he had experience, skill, and his aim was very near perfect (which did _not _make him a sniper).

His finger hovered over the button that would make the _Strike_ pull the trigger. The slightest hint of activity, and he shot.

The positron beam curved through space, searing off the archaic-felt canons under the ship’s bridge on its bow.

“Secondary target,” he told Miriallia, over Lieutenant Badgiruel shocked reprimands for firing without order. “The bridge.” If someone shot at Lacus he was generally very thorough at ensuring they could not try again.

“Acknowledged,” his friend said. “Remain on Standby.” Miriallia informed the Captain, who grimly went back to forcing the _Thorn _to withdraw, now that it became obvious that they would, indeed, shoot at fellows if said fellows pointed arms at civilians, regardless of if the civilians were Coordinators or Naturals.

If the _Thorn_’s Captain had been indignant before for a lowly Lieutenant to meddle in his affairs, it was nothing to now. But the whiteness of his face was not from fury alone, and the woman making the calls on that new warship with the heavy guns did not even bat an eye at the consequences that would be raining down on her for turning fire on allies.

Instead she informed them politely that they were on the way to the moon to eventually rendezvous with the Eighth Fleet, and would they like to accompany them so that they may lodge their protests to Admiral Halberton personally? She had quite some things to report to him as well.

The _Thorn_ grumbled and grouched, and in the end decided to not wait while the _Archangel_ resupplied.

An All-clear transmitted had the crew of the _Silverwind_ exit the lifepods (except for Lady Lacus, for they were not _that_ sure yet), and two ships’ captains continued to discuss how to proceed.

In the end it was decided, not without some reluctance and reservations that the Silverwind, being a small enough, dock in the _Archangel_’s hanger and they would so escort them back to ZAFT space, and hand them over to armed escorts that would ensure that no ship may come on the same idea as the _Thorn_, that the _Thorn_ would not return, and that it provided most security.

True, for a mere escort there was no need to board the_ Archangel,_ but Captain Ramius was insistent, and Captain Mikales was in no position to refuse. Lacus, finally liberated from her pod greeted this news with much delight. _See, Captain_, she said much later when the two ships parted on admirable terms, _you need only keep looking and keep trying. We are not alone._

But until then it still took quite a while, for first they needed to get to know each other.

Captain Mikales disembarked first, and though they were indeed greeted with security personal, they stood at a distance and had their weapons out of sight. Instead they were greeted by the Captain of the vessel and her sour faced XO, and Lady Lacus displayed no sense of distrust when she floated out of the ship that was entrusted with her safety and into a ship of Naturals. A youth in EA uniform reached for her expecting hand and gave her an anchor.

He met her eyes, and smiled, warm, deep, and too tender to describe.

Lacus’s hand was warm in his as she touched down, and said, too quiet to be overheard, “Kira.”

It was difficult remember anything else existed, be it a hanger full of people or be it a battle raging outside, when she was gazing with such love, when he was gazing her with such deep feelings.

Miriallia, stepping on her boyfriend’s toes, because beautiful without comparison Lacus might be, she was also spoken for, and staring too long was as rude. She also took it upon herself to clear her throat meaningfully, quietly, pointedly.

Lacus and Kira’s eyes jumped to her, she smiled pointedly, and the air around them shifted in dynamics just slightly, somehow, without any visual indicators, yet it was no longer clear looking at them that they knew each other, or that they loved each other. He was just a kind boy, helpfully extending a hand and being stunned by her beauty, and she was just polite and oblivious to the effect of her beauty.

.

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.

It was still a warship, so welcoming or no, they could not let their guests have free reign. Murrue considered offering them quarters, just as she did to the Heliopolis refugees, but unfortunately there was only so much she could plausibly excuse. It helped, she supposed, that the _Silverwind_’s Captain Mikales seemed uncomfortable enough with their welcome as it was. The conclusion they reached was that the crew remained on the _Silverwind_, unless they requested an escort around the ship.

While the _Archangel_ salvaged supplies from Junius Seven, something that was only more difficult to do with a dozen Coordinators on board that were here to remember the tragedy, everyone still worked together and folded paper cranes.

When Murrue stepped on the _Silverwind _to offer its crew a chance to release the tokens with them once they were done, she was only mildly surprised to find the children mingling with the Coordinator crew, folding cranes, and roaring with laughter.

Waving the unfolded paper that floated aimlessly around out of her face, Murrue’s eyebrow ticked up in question. The three unaffected Heliopolis boys were wheezing with so much laugher, they had to curl up, utterly without coordination in the zero-grav environment.

Julia-san tried to remain impartial, and, going by her repeatedly pressing her face into her own shoulder, failed. Several other crewmembers were in similar states, while Miriallia just rolled her eyes when they met Murrue’s. Lacus smiled mildly, her hands folding a crane as her eyes, on Kira, danced with mischief.

“What is going on here?” She asked Kira-kun, who while smiling, also looked long-suffering.

Her three male volunteers stopped laughing long enough to notice her, then looked back at Kira, and again couldn’t help themselves. At least they were quiet enough that she could understand Kira’s reply.

“I’m being teased,” he said.

“So I assumed,” she humoured.

He sighed. “It came up that Haro and Tori were made by the same person.” Athrun, thus introduced as an acquaintance of without throwing the _Aegis_ into the mix. Good idea, she approved. “Then they,” he nodded at his friends sans Miriallia, “asked why I never mentioned him, I made the mistake to reply that talking about him made me miss him, and Tolle found that sounded an awful lot like my first love.” Tolle lost it again, snorting and choking on his own laughter.

“Oh?” Murrue said, lips twitching because she thought she knew where this was going.

He nodded, shooting his friend an annoyed look. “I said that Athrun sure was the first person outside of my family that I loved, and still love. I mean, love isn’t exclusive to romance, so I saw nothing wrong with replying like that.”

Kira-kun was right, of course, it was just that such things between non-family members mostly went unspoken. Kira-kun wouldn’t notice or care about such social conventions, and most of the crew of the Archangel didn’t either, knowing very well what a precious gift emotions were, and that they should always be made clear. To others, though –

“Julia-san then saw the need to inform me that Lacus was engaged to Athrun and I congratulated her,” and Kira _would_ be able to do so sincerely and earnestly regardless of how the relationship actually stood, “saying that it must be nice to have a guarantee that Athrun would be in her life.”

Murrue’s lips twitched more, because she really, really saw where this was going.

“I then offered that I would not mind if Kira were to marry Athrun, because I would marry them both,” Lacus-san continued, angel-innocent.

“His _expression_,” Sai wheezed, holding his stomach, looked at Kira, and snorted with a renewed wave of laugher.

A blind shot from _Lacus_, Murrue realized. Hearing something like that from Lacus would indeed have put a most amusing expression on his face. Shame she’d missed it.

“Well, don’t forget to invite us to the wedding,” she said.

Kira-kun looked betrayed as laughter burst out again. “I don’t mind having Athrun in my life, for the rest of my life, but I think marriage I’ll rather pass off to my as of yet non-existent sister,” he said drily. “But yes, I’m pretty sure that if he’d try to marry someone who wouldn’t make him happy, I’d make sure he didn’t, in fact, marry that person –“

Miriallia exploded into gasping laughter, and Murrue had to hide her own snort behind her hand, having to look away or risk picturing an Athrun-kidnapping-from-altar incident in her Cagalli-kidnapped-from-altar memories, and that’s just-

She had to flee for a moment, biting her lips and using the quiet of the corridor to get a breather. Tears of suppressed laugher escaped her eyes.

Taking a bracing breath, she re-entered the cabin, her dignity still firmly in place.

Miriallia was still grasping at a cushioned seat, leaning against it as she had her eyes closed, tried to get herself back under control but kept snorting with laugher.

Lacus had her mouth hidden behind her sleeve, and Kira’s lips twitched as well at the thought.

Murrue would not burst out laughing. She would _not_. Not even at the thought of Athrun-kun’s _face_ if the Freedom dragged him off.

“I’m _not_ marrying Athrun,” he said exasperatedly to them all, apparently just done, and determinedly went back to folding paperflowers.

“Apologies, Yamato-san,” Julia-san said. “Here we are, not even well acquainted with you, yet… It’s just the thought of Councilman _Zala’s_ _son_ being the topic of _this_ discussion…”

“Just so long as you don’t mention it to Councilman Zala,” said Kira-kun graciously, not concerned with the rest of it.

Of course Kira-kun lacked any and all kind of awareness when it was about his relationship with Athrun anyway, and how it looked to those who were not peripherally involved. This wasn’t the first time Kira and his relationship was the focus of some teasing, but most of the _Archangel_ had quit it fairly quickly.

Mostly because they couldn’t, actually be teased all that much. For one, all subtle implications of a non-platonic relationship went over their heads, for another they really were _close_.

Murrue had no doubt that if she had at any point in their acquaintance asked Kira for his own medical history, habits, blood type, etc. Kira would have looked at her with wide eyes. On the other hand, had she asked, at any point _after _officially meeting Athrun-kun about Athrun’s medical history, his sleeping habits, or, like, what order Athrun preferred on his desk, Kira could have given her a rundown.

In turn Athrun-kun would have been able to give the same for Kira. He did, in fact. Was one of the first things he did after joining the _Archangel_ – completing their Kira-kun’s medical history and file with potentially relevant information. 

The thing was, they knew such things after not having seen each other for _two years_, after having killed each other’s friend, after having almost killed each other, and after putting themselves and each other through the ringer for _months_.

They had cut each other and themselves to pieces, doing what they _must_, and fighting the one person they _couldn’t_.

Yet Athrun had still known all that from the top of his head.

Murrue didn’t know what Athrun-kun had been like before, but she had known Kira (if not nearly as well as she had thought, back then), and she could clearly see where the pieces that he’d lost had been replaced by Athrun and Lacus.

She thought she could see sometimes where Kira blended into Athrun and where Athrun blended into Kira.

What must it be like, she had often wondered between the first Battle of Orb and a year after Jachin Due, to love someone you were doing your damnedest to kill.

All in all they had emerged out of that with their friendship carved into each other in blood, death and war, and some co-dependency was akin to a miracle.

In light of that, their relationship really was nothing they could be teased about, because all teasing would still, in a way, fall short of reality.

All of the Archangel was more or less aware of it, but other people had no idea, couldn’t possibly comprehend it without seeing them together, and that’s why they could laugh.

“Somehow,” said Aaron-san to that, “I don’t think Zala-sama would find humour at his son’s expense as funny as we do.”

Kira-kun’s face didn’t change but his eyes lost some light. Levity drained out of the moderate cabin, though only a handful could guess at how little humour a man in question truly had.

Murrue cleared her throat. “I see you are all working hard. I came to see who wanted to go out to let the cranes fly? Crew of the _Silverwind_ invited as well, of course.”


	4. Blink, and shoot

“Is it true?!” Yzark demanded, bursting into the bridge. “They really have Lacus-sama?!”

Rau Le Creuset acknowledged his most hot-headed pilot from the corner of his eyes drily. “The evidence is difficult to refute.” Up on screen, the PLANTs’ little princess stood waving next to a woman in EA alliance uniform. “They took custody of the _Silverwind_ for safety and security reasons, they say.”

“Damn those Naturals! Taking civilians hostage-”

“ -or not.” Athrun spoke over him as he arrived, expression unreadable. Rau didn’t like that. He appreciated being able to predict his soldiers. “If they were, they wouldn’t be awaiting contact like this, now would they?” He narrowed his eyes, studying his fiancée. “What are their demands.”

Rau’s lips curled. “None. They merely wish to return the ship, and it’s crew, to us before combat begins.”

“They’re lying. They’re up to something,” snapped Yzark.

“Does it matter?” Nicol too studied the looped message that they had yet to acknowledge. “We’ve got to rescue them.”

“But are they just going to hand them over? Just like that?” Dearka seemed less invested than his two soft-heated teammates, but taking civilians hostage had any PLANT citizen bristling, ZAFT or no. “What’s their objective?”

“Who knows,” said Rau eventually, wanting to see if they had anything more to offer, “but fact is that they will be rendezvousing with the Eighth Fleet soon. An attempt at stalling perhaps? Our sensors have already picked up an advance fleet. Perhaps they’re assuming they’ll be safe once they combine their forces.”

“But then why offer to hand them over? Lacus-sama is the Chairman’s daughter,” Nicol mused. “It would be more effective to say that they wanted to negotiate terms for transfer.”

“Well yeah, but Natural’s are stupid. They probably figured that since we’ll have to swallow whatever demands they make that they might as well just skip it.”

Athrun shot Dearka a dubious look, the first bit of readable emotion he showed. “They’d be shooting themselves in the foot.”

Dearka shrugged.

Yzark snorted angrily. “Naturals are stupid, but not that stupid. Just think about what it’d say about us if we’re unable to defeat something like _that_.”

“Oh, yeah.” The tanned boy grimaced.

“Not only that. So far they’ve outsmarted us as well,” added Athrun analytically.

“What?” Yzark rounded on him. “They’ve not outsmarted us! What the hell are you talking about?!”

Athrun was unaffected by his teammate’s anger. “At Heliopolis, they didn’t take the course to Artemis we expected. In fact, they didn’t head towards Artemis at all. They didn’t take the expected route to the moon either. We lost them, Yzark, and the only reason we found them here, now, is because we’re here to search for Lacus.”

Rau smiled. “Athrun is quite right. You’ll only land in a quick grave if you underestimate your enemy, Yzark, Dearka. Something is up. We don’t know what. We must be cautious. Go to your machines, we’ll see what they have in store for us once they release the ship.”

Three of them made to leave without protest, but Athrun turned to face him with an unreadable...or dare he say it, _evaluating_ gaze. “What will we do if they really only hand them over to us? Will we engage in combat?”

“Of course. That ship, and her mobile suit are a threat we must eliminate before they become a serious threat to PLANT.”

Athrun’s lips thinned, a muscle in his jaw jumped. His tone was cool. “We’d be opening battle with a civilian craft near the field?”

_Ah, emotionally compromised._ Rau sighed, almost disappointed. “I understand your concern, Athrun. I want our young miss safe as much as you do, but we are _soldiers_. Fighting is what we do, and we must do our duty.”

“I don’t think that carelessly risking the lives of over a dozen civilians is part of our duty.” Athrun shot back bitingly. “Respectfully. Sir.” He managed.

Rau turned towards him, facing the boy fully, deciding in a split second how to handle this. He softened his voice. “I understand that this must be difficult for you, Athrun. We will obviously be placing the _Silverwind_’s security as top priority. If you want you can personally escort them out of the danger zone. We have more than enough combat strength to destroy that legged ship between the _Gamow_ and the _Vesalius._ _If_ it all goes that simple.”

Athrun’s tension abated some, though unless Rau was mistaken that seemed to take considerable effort. “...Thank you, Sir,” he forced out.

Rau nodded, and Zala’s young son left to join his friends in the elevator. “What was _that_?” Yzark hissed not as quietly as he probably thought before the doors hissed shut.

What was that indeed. It was quite unlike Athrun to question orders. Doing so as directly as just now, and on the bridge for everyone to witness? Unheard of.

Some pressure with his fiancée on the line was to be expected. But was that truly it? Was it all? Ever since he left launched without authorization at Heliopolis he had been behaving strangely. Rau had doubted his stammered, uncharacteristically scattered report and explanation (wanting to get revenge for Rusty and Miguel), but had accepted it at the time and written it off as the boy being his father’s son.

Rau resolved to keep an eye on him after this, but for now there were other matters to pay attention to. “Open the same channel as the Legged Ship.”

“Sir,” Ades replied, and a moment later the looped sequence was replaced with a live one that showed PLANTs precious princess still floating on the bridge and still smiling. She waved again at the screen while the ship’s captain narrowed her eyes at Rau.

“This is Commander Rau Le Creuset of the _Vesalius_. We read you _Archangel_,” he spoke. _Now, let’s see what you are up to, Muu._ “Civilian transfer acknowledged. We expect the _Silverwind_ and Lacus-sama.”

The woman barely concealed her scorn. “Acknowledged, _Vesalius. Silverwind_ launching in 0005.” On screen, a young EA soldier appeared to escort the Lady Lacus down to the hanger, respectfully offering her his arm for zero-grav movement.

“Acknowledged,” he replied. Now what? Would they release the shuttle, then shoot it down in front of them in hopes of gaining a psychological advantage? Not a tactic he’d expect from Muu. He pursed his lips. And unless fire broke out there was no conceivable way the _Silverwind_ could become collateral damage.

PLANT would scream for the blood of every last Natural alive, even the irritatingly conservative Chairman Clyne.

The _Silverwind_ left the Archangel’s hanger.

It left blast radius.

Nothing happened.

It reached the half point between the two sides.

Nothing happened. No mobile suit, no mobile armour.

Rau felt his mouth twist.

Surely this wasn’t all.

The tension on the bridge of the _Vesalius_ was palpable, but the closer the _Silverwind _came to the _Vesalius _and the _Gamow_, the more it abated.

Only a quarter left before the ship arrived behind their lines.

_What’s going on, Muu?_

Rau bit the inside of his cheek. “Prepare to launch all mobile suits.”

Captain Ades took a second longer to respond than normal. Conscience, such a bothersome thing. What use was it feeling indebted to the enemy?

Was that their goal? Make the ZAFT forces reluctant to fight because of gratitude?

If so, it was an incredibly naive and foolish plan. A child could have come up with something better.

“The _Silverwind_ left estimated primary combat zone. The Legged Ship is changing course, estimation beta, three, orange, delta.”

“Launch all our suits. Prime the main canons.”

In response to their actions, the so-called Archangel readied it’s own heavy artillery. The mobile suit shot into space, quickly followed by the Moebius Zero.

The G-weapons met first, Dearka branching off when Muu proved himself harder to take down than the average MA.

“_Duel _damaged!” Shouted CIC not two minutes later. “Main camera and an arm lost. _Duel_ is returning.”

Oh?

Rau looked at the screen, stare narrowing. With the bare eye it was near impossible to make out any details in space combat, which was why an efficient bridge crew was so important.

“_Blitz_ and _Buster _damaged!” Came the next call, soldier’s discipline falling victim to incredulity. “Both are returning.”

What?

“Bring up the enemy mobile suit on the main screen,” he demanded.

Yzark paying a price for his hot-headedness was one thing. Despite being skilled and determined it could happen. Unlikely, but it theoretically could. Nicol and Dearka befalling the same fate soon after?

Impossible.

“Recall the _Aegis _from escort,” he ordered. “Tell him to be cautious.”

On screen, the one mobile suit the hadn’t been able to steal didn’t even bother using its shield, merely dodging two GINNs’ fire by a hair’s breath before slashing the MMI of the first (plus arm) off, then advancing on the next. That GINN stood no better chance and lost it’s main camera. Both were forced to retreat.

The _Strike_ paused only long enough to pick new targets, then didn’t hesitate, and repeated the same strategy with the same result. If there was a bullet it could not dodge, it moved the shield into place.

“Signal from Kook’s GINN lost.”

That left them with only three more GINN and the _Aegis_.

Looking at this mess, it was starting to make sense why they returned a political bargain-ship and a dozen hostages on top without trying anything. They felt they didn’t need to.

It grated him that Muu was that confident in having outmanoeuvred him_ again_ (as Athrun had rightly pointed out), but it would be worth it. The moment he handed the recording of this battle to High Command…

“The _Archangel_ is deploying it’s positron cannons!”

“Evasive action!”

So long as they lived, that was.

This was _highly_ unexpected. From the data they had available, the _Strike_ should be more or less matched with the other G-weapons. Then was this difference in combat strength the difference in pilot skills?

Rau found… a thrill shot through him, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. What he knew for sure was that so long as that Legged Ship was around, space battle would reach a new level of pressure. If it reached the hands of the Earth Forces, ZAFT may start to step up its game.

Now there. _There_ he knew why a thrill raced down his spine.

“The _Aegis_ is returning. It’s damaged. The _Ziegler_ reports that all it’s GINNs have also returned.”

Ades turned a bit, a question implied.

“We’re withdrawing.”

There was nothing else they could do.

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His hands trembled.

Actually, he trembled all over.

Kira clenched his fists and rested them with more pressure than necessary against the solid cockpit of the Strike.

He was alright. The ship was fine. Athrun was _fine_. Not even a scratch. Kira’d only cut off an arm of the _Aegis_ and they’d even agreed on it being the best, smartest, fastest way. There hadn’t been any danger to Athrun.

Intellectually he knew that, but he still couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop _feeling_.

Nausea stirred in his gut and Kira leaned his head back, closing his eyes and blocking everything out. _Not a flashback, please not a flashback-_

One breath. Two.

Letting his body calm down from combat shouldn’t be that difficult, and if it were only combat it wouldn’t be, but he’d fought _Athrun_.

He’d sworn to himself once, twice, _thrice_ that he’d never do it again. And yet here he was _again_.

Every time he thought he surely would not be able to bear a next time.

Every time he could not understand how he even made it through, because he _could not_ fight Athrun.

Never again. _Never again_, he tried to tell himself.

It would be fine, he’d never have to do it again.

But that was a lie, and he knew the truth so well that he couldn’t even lie to assure his own consciousness. 

The _Strike_, and the _Aegis_.

They’d have to fight again.

Kira felt sick.

Not Athrun. Never again Athrun.

If only pleading and crying could get him out of it.

But it wasn’t like Athrun was in any danger from him (or the reverse) even if they did fight, and just Kira’s comfort was no reason to compromise everything.

But they’d still be fighting.

He had barely managed to exchange any words with Athrun before they’d had to separate, or risk it becoming obvious how very much they tried to not fight. How staged their exchanged fire was.

Athrun was fine. That was important. Kira had to remember that.

Lacus was fine too. On her way back to PLANT now, but fine. 

The _Minerva_’s crew was active. The crew that Kira was _responsible_ for. Kira had barely managed to tell Athrun anything to pass on. Because they’d been _fighting_.

With mobile suits.

With the _Aegis _and the _Strike._

Kira _hated_ it.

His fists clenched, but didn’t tremble anymore.

He could do this. He had to. Everything was so strange, but also familiar, and yet it was changeable.

What changed, how and for how long they didn’t know. They didn’t know anything except that this was where they _seemed_ to be.

Yet on the other hand, if it was their lives, then they had to focus on it.

Kira wanted to do that. So many mistakes that he’d wished he hadn’t made.

But never at the price of the future they had build and fought and died for.

Yet this seemed to be their present.

Even if it wasn’t, what did they have to lose trying?

In this present they’d already avoided all the dead of Artemis, the sacrifice of Lacus’ crew, and hopefully soon the death of the advance fleet.

That was great. Wonderful even.

It felt a lot like cheating and too good to be true, but that _didn’t matter_.

There was a war to end with as little sacrifices as possible.

Kira had the power to influence that.

And if he could save lives, then he didn’t even have to force himself.

Kira exhaled, muscles relaxing. He could do this.

With a determined nod to himself he opened the cockpit and climbed out. The mechanic crew was already squirrelling over the Strike with magnifying glasses, looking for any tiny scratch they had to correct, and Kira absently remembered that they’d want a report from him about how the modifications worked.

Not much was available to them to really boost the Strike’s performance, but they had experience, tricks, and knowledge of doing so once already. Not modified to Kira’s specifics, no, to the Commander’s, but point was that they knew _how_. Four years of added technological development also only helped.

Kira absently remembered that they’d asked him to salvage some MS parts from outside. He’d forgotten.

Kicking off in the direction of the changing room, he let his thoughts drift towards more positive things. It was easier now, out of the Strike’s cockpit. Lacus was his Lacus. Athrun was his Athrun. The Minerva crew was his. Cagalli was probably his too. Tolle and Flay were alive.

So long as they remained on board of the _Archangel_ keeping them that way should be possible. But there was a problem coming up.

He continued his way to the Captain’s quarters where Murrue-san and Muu-san were already waiting for him.

“Yo Kid, nice job out there.”

“Thank you Muu-san, you too,” Kira said accepting the bottle of water tossed at him. Sipping some water settled his stomach.

Muu-san snorted. “And thanks to that, we’ll be having some issues soon. Oh man, I don’t remember signing up for shit like this when I was asked to escort some green pilots to Heliopolis.”

Kira sipped water as Murrue-san said drily, sitting behind her desk, “you can always quit while you’re ahead, Muu. Perhaps send us a card from this nice retirement home that exists for ever-so-long with the war going on.”

“Yeah, right. Retirement. What’s that?” Muu-san grinned ironically. “But I’m just saying. It’s not like we’re not having enough headaches already. A crew that is to ninety percent four years older than they look, another ten percent we have to watch our mouths around or risk coming off as crazy, compromised or disloyal or all of the above, a genocidal bastard we somehow have to neutralize, a friend shooting at us – by the way, how’s it stand with him?” Asked Muu-san, watching Kira carefully.

Kira couldn’t help smiling, now that it was over. “He’s good.” Tension visibly left the two officers’ shoulders, glad for him. “The _Minerva_ is around too he said.”

“That’s good,” said Murrue-san, smiling relieved. “I’m guessing Lacus-san will have some support then?”

Kira shrugged. “We didn’t have time to talk that much, but I think so.” He looked away from them. “I wish I could do something. I’m supposed to be responsible for them.”

“Well, yeah, but the _Minerva_ isn’t exactly incompetent, and _everyone_ (on PLANT and in ZAFT) adores Lacus. So. They’ll be able to make do without you for a while. They’ll have Athrun too.”

Athrun’s professional and personal history with the Minerva was complex and troubled by a past of misunderstandings and betrayal. They had thought, for quite some time, that Athrun had betrayed them. And in military terms that might be accurate. But Athrun was betrayed by them in turn, in spirit and in heart, even if they had had no idea.

And for those very actions neither would apologize. Because both sides were right, just from different standpoints. Athrun was sometimes still a bitter point with the crew that someone for some reason thought would be a good idea to put _him_ in charge of.

(Kira couldn’t say it didn’t hurt him by proxy, but betrayal hurt too and was always personal, and it _had_ gotten better once Kira’s own ‘starting troubles’ with them had been put to rest.)

It had only been getting better, though. It should be fine. And Athrun wouldn’t care about how awkward it made him feel if it was to help someone out anyway.

Nodding without really agreeing, Kira put the matter out of his head for now.

“Besides, we’ve got enough issues without borrowing trouble,” the man continued. “We completely decimated Le Creuset’s command. ZAFT works fast, so they’ll probably get them back on track soon, but that means that the relief crew Admiral Halberton assigned to us is, actually, going to be assigned to us. Probably. I’m not complaining, but it’s an issue if we have to work with crew that we are unfamiliar with.”

The rest of the _Archangel_’s crew at the moment, even those that didn’t share the discrepancy in mental in physical age, they were familiar with. They knew more or less what sort of people they were, and what to expect. It said a lot about this ship that Lieutenant Badigurl was the only one they had to consider ‘on the fence’ in regards to their future.

She was loyal to the Earth Forces, dedicated, and by-the-book. She was a good person, but she believed in an organization that was corrupted from top to bottom by people who did not share her discipline.

Given sufficient reason, everyone else on the _Archangel _would defect.

Had Lieutenant Badgiruel been on board during Operation Spitbreak, she might have returned to the EA and faced a firing squad of her own free will. Not because she’d have thought that what High Command did was right, but because she believed in the military as a concept and wouldn’t set a bad example.

The Captain, Muu-san, Lacus and Miriallia, Kira and Murdoch-san – everyone really, was willing to teach her that to be a good soldier who protected their land and people did not mean that they had to follow orders to the letters. But they had no way to predict the future or to force Lieutenant Badgiruel to change. She had to do that herself.

Kira dreamed of a world where it would not come that far. Where the war would end sooner, not escalate, not demand so very, very many lives. But they had no power.

Lacus, while an adored idol, did not have political weight. That laid with her father, who was trying his best, who had Lacus to support him, but who had _always_ tried what the _Archangel_ was trying to do as well. It had led to his death.

Cagalli (if, if,_ if_) similarly lacked political options. Lord Uzumi was stubborn and idealistic and wise, and he knew how to lead his country, but Orb, while advocating neutrality and hoping for peace, could not take an active role without letting the war spread into its borders.

Kira had the _Strike_, which was enough to protect the _Archangel_, but lacked the power he’d need to force the fighting to end.

The _Archangel _needed the _Freedom_ (and ideally the _Justice_) to become a voice that could force both sides to heed attention to their words. To end the war single-handedly, they’d need the METEORs.

If need be, the mechanic crew could rebuild _Freedom_ and _Justice_, but for that they needed allies and resources. The need must be pressing enough, and even then it would take more time than to just simply steal them from ZAFT. Lacus agreed, and she had dared to speak what no-one else had wanted to think about.

That they wouldn’t be able to end it before then.

That at most they would be able to slow the escalation.

At best, perhaps the involvement to nuclear weapons could be avoided.

Everything else...it might just change, but it would be merely a different track towards them same dead end. They would try, of course, but...

Fact was, they did not know what the future would bring. They merely had an idea. One of many possibilities. If the _Archangel_ took different actions, the Le Creuset Team would adapt their strategies accordingly. Thus they would no longer be able to predict their actions with certainty.

That outside mess would soon be joined by an inside mess. New crewmembers who had no idea. Changes spiralling outwards. Captain Ramius did not want a mutiny, and did not want to have to confine crewmembers to the brig, but the _Archangel_ was no longer an Earth Forces ship. Everyone who did not fall in line would one day have to disembark. But having to do that…

“We’ll just have to try and integrate them as quickly as possible and go from there. More pressingly, Admiral Halberton will want to drop us at Alaska. Most likely.” Murrue-san mused, troubled and sad. “What will we do then?”

Muu-san blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “No matter how you look at it, the _Archangel _and Alaska are a bad combination. Kira aside, we can’t have them get their hands on the _Strike_’s combat data, on this ship’s data, or on the _Strike_ itself or the _Archangel_. If we arrive as express delivery from space, those slimy bastards might actually decided they’d like to keep us.” All of them grimaced. “We can’t have that.”

“It’s probably too much to hope that keeping all of that out of the Atlantic Federation's hands would spare us those three Gundams. Or the Dominion. Isn’t it?” Stated Murrue-san bleakly.

“I’m sure Uzumi-san is turning over every stone for the people that leaked info to ZAFT, but the blue prints are probably already in Alaska,” agreed Kira tiredly.

“We’d drive a dagger into those _Strike Dagger_s at least, though,” Muu-san mused, lips twitching as he got appalled/disgusted looks for the pun. “But still. The question is, are we assuming the Eighth Fleet is going to land in the crossfire between us and ZAFT, or are we assuming we’ll be needing to find express reason for, no sir, sorry, can’t go to Alaska.”

“We gave ZAFT quite something to think about in this battle, they might not come back,” Murrue-san mused thoughtfully, frowning. “But there was no better solution.”

Pushing himself off the ceiling he’d slowly drifted towards, Muu-san shrugged helplessly. “I gotta say, knowing Le Creuset this kick in the teeth will only have him coming back with more, well, not sharp and pointy things, but you know what I mean.”

“I don’t quite think he’s going to care about the Eighth Fleet much either, Murrue-san. I’m sorry.” Kira studied her for a moment, tilting his head before saying softly, “Murdoch-san’s team and I are still have some ideas about how to improve the _Strike_ to maximum abilities, but it’s...”

“No _Freedom_, I know Kira-kun, thank you.” She smiled at him with a mix of resignation, softness and loss. “No one should expect you to protect an entire fleet on your own, regardless of what mobile suit you pilot.”

Kira’s gaze darted away from hers, unable to face the old grief being dragged to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

Unlike him, who’d only met Admiral Halberton once (or thereabout), the man’d been Murrue-san’s mentor. It had been his spirit that guided her through their troubles, and his memory that she probably felt she had betrayed and let down at _Spitbreak_.

That Admiral Halberton or no, the _Archangel_ would never serve the Earth Alliance again did nothing to help her in that regard.

Kira didn’t know what that felt like. The closest he came was probably Athrun, back when they had truly shot at each other, but Athrun was alive and _Athrun_ besides. (Contrary to what everyone seemed to think, Kira was actually aware that not everyone had a platonic relationship comparable to his and Athrun’s.) So he didn’t understand.

Point was, in spirit Kira hadn’t even felt like he betrayed anyone when he shot at the EA. Or at Orb when they shot at Captain Gladys’ _Minerva_.

But he didn’t need to understand, because beyond that, the Eighth Fleet counted hundreds of lives. Almost two thousand. If they could save them, they should try everything they could to do so.

“I kind of feel bad for saying this,” Muu-san pulled a face, “but it would be most convenient for us if Le Creuset did come back.” Murrue-san shot him a sharp, dark look and he raised his hands in defence. “Just saying. We’d have an excuse to leave the fleet and ZAFT wouldn’t be after them so persistently.”

“But ZAFT is not just going to stop fighting,” Kira pointed out. “If they have the forces, they’ll still eliminate the fleet. Just because they can.”

“I know that, Kid, but look,” Muu-san sighed, “and do I ever feel bad about putting so much on you, but if you and I launched as soon as the fighting started, we’ll be able to send a number of the GINNs, maybe even the Gundams back to their ships, even the score a little. Give the Eighth a chance. If we stayed the entire fight and actually ended up winning against what ever fleet Le Creuset cooks up, we’d be right back where we started. Slated to head down to Alaska.”

“That would make the fleet depend on how many mobile suits Kira-kun can take out. And that is _not_ Kira-kun’s burden to bear,” reprimanded Murrue-san sharply. “It would trade lives at the cost of lives, and that’s not our call to make.”

“We _are_ in that position, though. Just sayin’.”

Kira swallowed tightly. The _Strike_ was a good, advanced machine, but it’s battery limited power, agility and speed. It simply was _not _designed for one-against-many combat, and there was only so much their modifications could do about that. Only so much Kira’s skill could compensate for.

The result was that he lacked the power to protect something he wanted to protect.

But. “I don’t mind, Murrue-san. I’ll do everything I can, to the best of my abilities. That is not something I can regret. I’d regret not doing anything more. ...Besides, I’m used to it.”

Muu-san and Murrue-san grimaced at that, guiltily pained. It was an ugly fact for them, splattered with bad decisions and worse memories that nonetheless continued to remain true.

“That’ll be our plan then?” Kira continued. “If the Eighth gets attacked, we return fire with the aim of forcing a standstill, the Archangel descends...” He trailed off, before sighing. “But that only goes if ZAFT does attack. What can we do otherwise?”

Murrue-san looked at him helplessly and Muu-san shrugged equally cluelessly. “Play it by ear?” The man suggested. “Come up with something in the moment? Engine troubles that lead us into descend vector?”

They looked at each other for a long time before sighing in unison. Still no ideas it was.

Kira decided to make his excuses, having other things to do now, but Muu-san stopped him before he could. “Hey, Kid, what’re your Heliopolis friends gonna do? Are they, you know, gonna leave?”


	5. Blink, and fight

“Aren’t you gonna talk to her?” came Miriallia’s voice from behind him. “You’ve hardly said a word to her the entire time.”

The _Montgomery_ had send a shuttle over, delivering relief supplies, additional crew, and Flay’s father.

Flay had thrown herself at him with tearful eyes the moment he disembarked, he whirled her around, laughing, looking nothing at all like a man who probably had close connections to Blue Cosmos (if he wasn’t a member) and quite possibly LOGOS.

That just went to show that every one was human in the same way, even hated people, even enemies. Why it was never okay to kill anyone.

Flay’s father floated down to the deck, Flay with her arms wound around him still, and clasped Sai on the shoulder, commending him. Their friend ducked his head humbly, relief evident and joy at Flay’s happiness obvious.

Kira stood in the shadow of one of the many entrances to the hanger, watching from a distance. He hadn’t noticed Miriallia come up behind him, but he was not surprised.

“It’s better this way.”

He could hear Mriallia’s consternated frown when she said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aaron Allster greeted Captain Ramius, demeanour reminding Kira of well meaning politicians who had no idea how the real world worked. The praise he heaped on her and the senior officers was almost overbearing and definitely not timed right. To express his sincerity, he should be doing so in private and not where everyone could see, lest it seem more like a show than truth.

Captain Ramius was not even given an opportunity to properly greet her new staff, the man demanding all of her attention.

“It’s better if she just knows me as Sai’s Coordinator friend, someone she had little to do with and whose name she won’t remember in a few months.” Kira’s eyes were on Flay, the simple, childlike joy she felt just from being with her father, something he had never seen. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never smiled like that. “I’ll be deeply involved with the military, no matter how things turn out. That’s not Flay’s world.”

After a long, heavy moment Miriallia said quietly, “that’s not a reason you can’t be friends.”

“Isn’t it?” He returned softly. “Tolle dead, Sai and Kuzzy withdrawn. Just because they were my friends, they got involved in the fighting.” Miriallia too, but she...didn’t take on more than she could handle.

“That’s not true!” Miriallia said hotly and loud enough that it echoed through the hanger. Some mechanics turned to look at them. Kira waved them off and finally tore his gaze from Flay’s happiness to look over his shoulder at Miriallia.

In a quieter tone but no less insistent, Miriallia continued, “if it hadn’t been for you, we’d have died at Heliopolis.”

“Would you have? Really?” Kira shook his head, not disagreeing precisely but pointing out an objection. “For all that we know, you’d have been able to find a shelter if it had been anyone but me in that cockpit.”

Because he’d called out to them, stopped them from searching for shelters, happy that they were alive, relieved that they were there.

Because he’d impulsively wanted to not be alone in this new, crazy world.

Because he’d just faced an Athrun with a knife, and he’d needed something familiar. Needing help getting Murrue-san out of the cockpit had ever been only an excuse.

In hindsight, if she ever thought about it, Miriallia could probably guess that too.

Calling out that day was one of the things he regretted most, and the one thing that definitely, absolutely were where he was at fault; his selfishness might have caused his friends a normal life. Everything after was a spiral, Kira only a factor, but _that one moment_ where he’d flipped the Strike’s speakers...

“Or maybe we wouldn’t, and we’d have died a cold death when ZAFT blew the colony apart,” she countered.

“Maybe,” Kira acknowledged with a nod, leaning as much against the wall as one could in zero-grav, hands behind his back. “_If _the colony would have been blown apart.”

Miri pursed her lips and looked at him, hard. “Then the same goes for us. If, if, _if_ only we hadn’t enlisted on the _Menelaos_. Or if only we had not told you, let you be free of the burden of protecting us and had you leave with that shuttle.” Kira shook his head in protest, opening his mouth -

“_Yes_,” she insisted, “if, if, if. You could have still gotten out at that point. Or before, in Heliopolis. If only we had found a shelter, then you wouldn’t have felt obligated to cross blades with your best friend.” She put her hands on her hips, eyes intensely narrowed with burning emotions. “If you think that you being friends with us dragged us into war, then I reserve the right to say the same – that we being friends with you dragged _you_ in.”

She stared at him for a long moment, daring him to disagree. Unable to hold her gaze long, his focus darted at a spot on the opposite wall just over her shoulder. When he didn’t respond, she deflated. “It’s no one’s fault but this war’s,” she said softly. “That’s why; don’t be afraid, Kira.”

Kira dropped his gaze and closed his eyes for a long moment, wrestling with himself.

Letting himself pause for a moment, he just took comfort in his dear friend’s presence and understanding, let the _Archangel_’s activity wash over him and soothe the growing unrest inside him. This long familiar ship was not home precisely, because home was people, but it was close enough, and home was always a comfort. “...thank you, Miri.”

She made a dismissive noise. “So are you going to talk to her?”

Of course she wouldn’t let him off that easy. His lips twitched fondly and he opened his eyes again, glancing into the hanger from which the girl in question and her father were already long gone. “What am I supposed to say?”

Miriallia threw up her hands. “How am I supposed to know? I know what I say to her, but I have a feeling it’s different from what you’d say.”

Hm-mh, that was probably putting it a bit mildly. “I don’t even know her.”

“Because you’ve been avoiding her.”

“True,” Kira admitted with a shrug, smiling at her annoyance now. “It’s just, I know what I would say if she...were the Flay I knew. But she isn’t. I don’t know the first thing about this one.” Which was a good thing, because it meant that she hadn’t been forced to change into that person yet; the one who lost her only family to war, who only had war left.

“Then approach her as a stranger. Just talk to her. See for yourself, so that you can put your ghosts to rest.”

“What ghosts?” Sai’s voice said.

Kira and Miriallia jumped nearly out of their skins, losing control of their position for a moment. Kira got his feet vaguely back under him with help of the wall, but Miriallia had to be rescued from spinning uncontrolled through space by Sai. Who’d apparently managed to sneak up on them without either noticing.

Kira’s belly flip-flopped for a moment, but he quickly realized that if he had overheard their conversation, then that’s.._.not_ what he would be asking about.

Sai looked at their wide-eyed faces, gaze darting between them, eyebrows climbing. “Must have been some ghosts to distract you both like that. Anything we need to worry about?”

As one Kira and Miriallia quickly shook their heads, still wide eyed. The pointed way Sai pushed up his glasses expressed his scepticism, grinning nonetheless. “Well, let me know if there’s some ectoplasmic creature around to shove under a scanner, don’t hog it to yourselves.”

Kira and Miriallia stared. What were they supposed to say to _that_? In context of -

Sai’s eyebrows went up again. It was Sai’s way of joking, and it was bad, and usually one of them would have made a comment about that. That they didn’t hardly escaped him.

Kira could see how Sai very deliberately decided he didn’t want to know and shoved their oddness out of his head. “Anyway, Kira. Flay’s father wanted to speak with you. Meet the ‘brave and loyal pilot’ he said.” He shrugged helplessly. “He’s a bit overbearing.”

Kira’s stomach dropped, next to him Miriallia failed to hide a winch. Apparently even she hadn’t expected him to face his ghosts that quickly.

“I noticed,” Kira said weakly, his Coordinator brain managing to process the meaning and spit out an appropriate reply even while the majority of him wanted nothing more than to pretend this was _not_ happening. “I don’t think the Captain knew what to do with him.”

Sai smiled a bit awkwardly. “I’ll apologize to Lieutenant Ramius later.” The three of them set off down the corridor. “But seriously, Kira, don’t take everything Allster-san says to heart. He isn’t...” Sai looked uncomfortable for a moment before bracing himself and deciding to just spit it out. “Flay’s mother was killed in a pro-Coordinator demo when she was little, so...”

Kira felt his eyes widen, but caught himself before he gave too much away. He hadn’t known that. Flay had never mentioned...but why would she have. After all, Kira was a Coordinator too.

“I thought you said he wanted to thank the ‘brave and loyal pilot’,” Miriallia said, frowning.

“We-ell, yeah. And that was still what he was saying when I left. I think everyone had the tacit understanding not to mention that you’re a Coordinator to him, but you know Ensign Badgiruel...”

Miriallia made a sour face, finishing, “She doesn’t really do ‘tacit’. Not to superiors.” And the Vice Foreign Minister of the Atlantic Federation certainly counted as that, even if he wasn’t military. If such a small question as ‘how was a college boy able to do all that’ came up, she’d definitely mention it. 

Kira pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing patience from some deep well inside him that only occasionally ran dry. Like, say, when someone pointed a gun at Lacus. Or someone made Cagalli cry. Or hurt Athrun. Now was not such an occasion. “Thanks for the warning, Sai. I’ll be fine.”

They changed corridors towards the Captain’s quarters. Sai scratched the back of his head. “He’s a good man, but.”

Kira gave his friend a tired smile. “Grief and fear does strange things to people, I know, Sai. Seriously, it’s okay. It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t heard before.” Or won’t be, more like. Kira found the odds of his genetic status slipping under the table not in his favour.

Before he pressed the button to the Captain’s quarters, Kira braced himself. The door swished open with a hiss.

Inside Murrue-san and Muu-san looked to be trying to conceal significant emotional pain. Lieutenant Badgiruel’s face was stiff, formal and tight with annoyance. She had the best pokerface.

Flay was sitting in one of the chairs, and turned around at the sound of a door, her face breaking into a bright smile as she saw Sai, and she floated past Kira without even a second glance.

Her father...stood up, turned, and beamed enthusiastically. “My future son-in-law, a little girl, then you must be the Strike’s pilot. Please, come in, come in. Take a seat.” He laughed. “Not that you need a seat when there’s no gravity!”

“Good _god,_” breathed Miriallia.

...on second thought, maybe Kira would not be fine at all. The door closed automatically behind him, cutting him off from his friends/back-up.

The man approached, Kira watched him like one would a peculiar, non-threatening, never-seen-before alien, and almost fled when the man slapped an arm around his shoulder to further guide him inside. “Now, what do you have to say, I’ve just been discussing your reward with your Captain. Is there something you want? I’m sure it can be arranged, a service such as yours must be properly compensated.” The man all but dropped him in the chair Flay had vacated, retaking his own seat and continued while Kira hoped for rescue from Murrue-san. But her eyes just pleaded with him to take it.

“-I heard your parents live in Orb. A good country, that. I’m still not quite sure if they’ve got a monarchy or democracy, but their neutrality is useful beyond reproach. Our new warship and G-weapons aside, that’s why I had my daughter live in Heliopolis -”

Muu-san was even less helpful, mouthing ‘Orb Admiral, Kid, ZAFT White Coat, you can do it!’ at him, as if Kira had ever had any idea what he was doing.

“- vacation home, if you wanted. The pacific coast is a sight to behold, let me tell you. I used to take my dear Flay there every summer, but not since those damn Coordinators dropped down from space. Have made the area unsafe. Even there! Should end them all and -”

Lieutenant Badgiruel’s face became if possible even more stiff. If the man had been going on in this line before Kira arrived it was no wonder she had not mentioned Kira’s status to him. Dedicated to protocol she was, a Blue Cosmos sympathiser she was _not_.

“- or a medal, Ocean Star at least -”

“Allster-san!” Murrue-san stood up, palms on her desk.

He fell silent.

For an instant her face screamed that she had not wanted that to escape her, but she rallied, plastering a polite expression on her face. “I’m sure Kira-kun appreciates what you are trying to do for him, but please, give him a chance to breathe, he is only a young student.”

Right. Lieutenant Badgiruel closed her eyes as if that would somehow allow her to escape from a situation where an obvious member/sympathiser of Blue Cosmos wanted to award a Coordinator with medal generally reserved for ‘valiant defence of Naturals’. Something given fairly often to extremists, Blue Cosmos members, etc.

“Of course, you’re right, ma’am. Kira was it, yes? I remember being that age, so tell me, what do you fancy? A medal would boost any résumé, but I’m not kidding if I say something else could be arranged,” the man said, finally calming down from his burst of enthusiasm to be reasonable.

Muu-san wasn’t even mouthing encouragement anymore. He just looked very, very pained by the irony.

“Uh,” said Kira ever so eloquently, having no idea how to get out of this with his genetic status still kept silent. “Erm, thank you? But that’s really not necessary -”

“Nonsense!”

“- I was just protecting my friends. Everyone would have done the same.”

“If everyone could have done the same! I should certainly hope so!”

Kira cleared his throat to stall for time. Maybe… “In fact, Sir, I would feel uncomfortable being rewarded for this. It was really the crew of the Archangel that saved us all. If, then I think it is them who deserve a reward.”

Getting rewarded by the Earth Alliance was pretty far down on the list of what any of them wanted, but better them than Kira. He felt no regret.

“Of course, of course,” Flay’s father said, nodding in an agreeing manner. “And I’m sure the military will handle that. But you are only a civilian boy, from Orb even. You’re so humble, it’s admirable, but put yourself in my shoes. What would the world think if it came out that I, the Vice Foreign Minister, didn’t reward a civilian’s service to our forces! It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t want anything. The public would have my hide!” The man said grandly, spreading his arms wide. “Surely there must be something. A car, maybe? Admission to an Atlantic college? A date with a popular idol? Give me something here, boy.” The man smiled engagingly and earnest enough.

“...may I have some time to think about it?” When the man started to frown, Kira forged on, spinning a blank lie on the spot. “It’s just, this is all so sudden, and I haven’t even had time to think about the future...” Forming what hopefully looked like an appropriately stressed and nervous expression, he added. “But we’ll have more time now, won’t we? Since we’ve already been joined by three ships and will meet with the fleet soon?”

Behind the man’s back, Muu-san shot him a thumps up.

Flay’s father nodded thoughtfully. “I supposed that’s very true.” He slapped Kira on the shoulder, fending him floating out of the seat he was pushed into. “Still, you have my utmost thanks, so think of something nice in return, yeah?”

“...sure. I mean, yes sir, thank you very much.” Pause. “May I be excused? To, erm, start thinking? Please?” He directed this at Murrue-san, who had her head resting in her palms, channelling her XO’s desire. She still somehow knew to wave him away. Kira fled. Murrue-san lifted her head just in time as Allster-san’s attention fell back on her.

Once outside, Kira allowed himself to shudder. A medal? From the _Earth Alliance?_ For fighting against _Athrun (_among others)? Kira did have a high tolerance for insults, but that would even tempt him into throwing some shiny metal star into someone’s eye.

Probably he had better now go find Flay and ask her not to mention him being a Coordinator to her father. At this point, that would get ugly.

(At least Miri won’t be able to keep kicking him in the back once he got this done.)

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<strike></strike>“So, you think that they’ll chat with us again?”

Yzark glared at his locker, refusing to give in to the urge to kick it.

“Oi, Yzark.”

“Shut up, Dearka,” he grit out. “You’ve got a damn well nonchalant attitude considering how he kicked our ass last time. You got yours handed to you by that Hawk, by a freaking MA, and you’re wondering if they’ll be in a mood to chat?!” Around them a couple green coats, Athrun and Nicol were also changing into their flight suits, but it was only the first that showed discomfort at being caught in the same room.

“Don’t bite my head of for asking! You were thinking about the same thing,” Dearka retorted angrily. “And I’m damn well asking because we’ve got more than twice the suits we had last time. Do you think they’ll chat, or do you think they won’t chat?”

Gritting his teeth, Yzark briefly recalled just how damn easily they’d been forced from the field last time. The Strike’s pilot had opened a line almost immediately, told them that he’d not let them harm the Archangel, asked them to please withdraw, and told them that if they didn’t he’d make them.

The Hawk’s comment of _the Kid’s not kidding_ in a tone of badly concealed amusement had not been heeded until it was far too late.

Yzark had studied the battle recordings (obsessively, according to Dearka), and he could still not get over how quickly he’d been bested. How their entire _top elite class_ squad had been beaten in _minutes_. (Greens not included.)

In his defence, the specs they had of the Strike had severely understated its speed, but that was still no excuse.

The worst was that the Hawk had kept up a steady stream of chatter that they’d been able to hear up to the point where the battle was over and the MA withdrew to it’s ship. Nicol said the Strike had asked him, just before he was taken out, why he was fighting. Nicol had replied. The Strike had replied back, and they’d apparently had had some form of _conversation_ (stilted and awkward, but still!) while Nicol had been returning to the Vesalius and the Strike had continued to decimate their GINNs.

In other words, what Dearka actually wanted to know was if Yzark thought that those two enemy units would feel enough ease to multitask this time too.

“If they do, then that just shows all the more that Commander Le Creuset is right.” Having been given an additional three ships – two Lauresia-class and another Nasca – by High Command for this mission, the Supreme Council obviously thought so. “We can’t let them reach the surface, or they’ll definitely become a big threat to PLANT.”

No matter how much it smarted his pride to have lost like that, or to have to admit that a Natural could pose a threat, PLANT was more important. Yzark would sink them, and if he had to die trying.

“Do you really think so?”

Rounding on the idiot who said that, Yzark was only half-surprised that his eyes confirmed his ears, finding himself staring at Athrun, who pushed his locker closed. “What?!”

“Do you really think,” Athrun repeated, watching him with careful, guarded eyes. “That the Archangel poses a threat to PLANT?” Before Yzark even managed to take the breath he needed to shout at Athrun for his idiocy and demand how Athrun could even joke about it (as if Athrun made jokes), his rival continued calmly, “Because I found myself wishing that any enemy we faced was the Archangel.”

For a long moment Yzark was unable to wrap his head around those words, and he was distantly aware that he was not the only one staring at Athrun, the air frozen still. Behind Athrun, Nicol had a troubled look on his face as he watched the back of the member of their team he got along with best.

Yzark smashed his fist into the row of lockers. “Say that again,” he grit out. “Are. You. Fucking. _Crazy?!_ Have you already forgotten how humiliatingly they beat us. _Us!_ We’re some of the best!” Not his pride was at stake here, but the real, tactical facts. If they could not beat the Strike, that MA, the Legged Ship, then it didn’t look good for the rest of ZAFT either. If they could not, how could they protect the PLANTs? Coordinators were outnumbered as it was.

That damnable unflappable calm that had so irritated Yzark from the first moment Athrun beat him at something in the Academy ( -as if being first was only _natural_, as if there was nothing _special_ about beating Yzark, as if he took it for _granted!_ -) didn’t falter.

Athrun met his enraged stare evenly, but something about his eyes was still guarded. “Yes, think about that. We were outclassed and driven from the field. So tell me, how many men did we lose?”

Yzark opened his mouth. And closed it with an audible click. The oxygen in the room seemed to have fled as everyone ran the same numbers.

Nodding as if the lack of reply was an answer in itself, Athrun pushed off towards the exit, past Nicol, helmet in one hand. “I’d rather lose a battle than a single life,” he said just before he left, gaze (uncomfortably heavy) sweeping over his fellow pilots. “And from a ship that provided armed escort to civilian Coordinators, I don’t think the PLANTs themselves have anything to fear.”

In that bastards wake, the silence was ringing. Clenching a fist, Yzark hit the lockers again, this time allowing the recoil to push him through space. “Damn him!”

Dearka ran a hand through his hair, the other clipping his flight suit close. “Some gratitude for fiancée-rescuing I get, but what was _that?_” He marvelled, baffled.

Nicol closed his locker, the troubled look on his face only growing deeper with an added note of thoughtfulness. “...but Athrun has a point...They could have killed all of us pilots at least.” B_ut they didn’t_, he didn’t need to add. That truth had been hanging like a cloud over them ever since the last battle. _We’re still alive_. “I think I see where he’s coming from. If everyone fought like the Strike and the Hawk, and the Archangel, then we wouldn’t have to fear for PLANT,” he said with a small, wistful smile.

“Shut up, Nicol,” sapped Yzark harshly, not wanting to admit that there indeed was a point. Just because there seemed to be some Naturals that didn’t advocate Blue Cosmos didn’t mean anything. The enemy was the enemy, and the enemy would be _shot_. That’s what soldiers did. “What if they changed their minds?! Are you saying we should leave PLANT at the whims of some _EA_ Naturals?!” Growing defensive, Nicol was ready to protest, but Yzark didn’t let him. “Wake up from your pretty little fantasy! You and Athrun both. This is _war!”_

Nicol’s face pinched, then saddened, then grew determined. “I _know_ that,” he said, bravely direct for a coward.

“Good, at least there’s_ someone_ in your little conservative team who does.” Bitingly sarcastic, Yzark pushed himself back towards his locker and fished his helmet out. “See that you don’t forget and start a tea party with your new friend, the Strike.”

Nicol’s fists clenched, angrily. “You know what, Yzark. Sometimes you’re really impossible to be around.”

Dearka took that moment to snort, as if Yzark actually cared what coward + bastard thought.

One of the Greens cleared his throat, a man who had ten years on them, maybe more. “Joule is right, Afmari. We’d let you have your team-internal spat, but take this from someone with more experience, Sir. Sirs.” For a moment he paused, waiting for any of them to object to his opinion. When they seemed willing, the man continued, his face darkening.

“Don’t misunderstand, I saw my life flash before my eyes last battle, I’m as grateful as Zala to still be breathing. But, that machine, the Strike. Nothing has sacred me as much as that since April’s Fools cracked down on the nukes.” Yzark looked at the man sharply, seeing not fear but grim, absolute determination. “It’s too powerful to leave alone. Even if the pilot doesn’t mean us any harm now, that could change. Or the pilot could be replaced. Or the EA could mass produce it, make that much power readily available to their entire forces, Blue Cosmos included.” His gaze travelled from one of them to the next, gaze dark, noting how all three of his superiors turned white at a thought that, in that form, hadn’t occurred to them yet.

_The Strike times the number of EA pilots._ Yzark’s flight-suit squeaked as he balled his fist, instinctive horror turning into rage.

“We’re soldiers.” Said the man sombrely. “None of us are at war because we want to be. It’s just that we can’t protect PLANT otherwise. The world isn’t so kind to allow us to protect ourselves without it.” For a bit longer than the others, his eyes settled on Nicol. “Kindness, in war, is a weakness. After all, if we had been killed in the last battle, we would not be trying to kill them now. It will only cost you.”

Nicol swallowed and looked away.

“That’s how it is.” The words left Yzark not with a see-I-told-you tone, but flatly, anger at this world of theirs, and the Naturals that forced them boiling under the surface.

Dearka sighed, conveying the same sentiment. “Some might want to get Athrun up to speed,” he said. “He needs to get his head on straight. Or he’s gonna die.”

No kidding. Yzark snorted. Athrun wouldn’t be hearing it form him, someone else could do that.

While they waited on stand by in their suits for their smaller fleet to come into range of the Eighth Orbital Fleet of the Earth Forces, Nicol or someone else had better in fact screw that bastard’s head back on straight. The data the bridge kept sending them to prepare and inform them of the outside conditions spelled a battle near descend orbit, gravity being a variable factor, making it twice as dangerous.

Yzark’s lips thinned. If Athrun didn’t get his head on straight, he _would_ die in this. MAs were a joke normally, but they were seriously outnumbered not only by them, but also in terms of cannons, adding in the unpredictability from gravity, anything could happen. They could get dragged into the atmosphere, get caught by fire that would have a different vector in the zero-grav they were used to, get entangled in debris…

The Le Creuset Squad had never been on earth, had only received mandatory simulator training, and before now it had never really occurred to Yzark that the endless space they had in space was something he took for granted.

It was harsh conditions, but nothing Yzark couldn’t manage. All of them should be well able, even the Greens. _If _Athrun started seeing the real world again, that was.

(Little did he know that while Nicol was indeed talking to Athrun, he did not do as demandingly as Yzark would have liked. Little did Nicol know that when Athrun promised he would be careful that he did so after only listening with half an ear.)

(Athrun, while usually always glad to engage Nicol, could only spare half of his attention, the rest preoccupied with psyching himself up for the recreation of another nightmarish, _pointless _battle that he lacked the power to stop.)

Flipping a few buttons, he checked the Duel’s weapons systems, confirming the Assault Shroud’s all-green once more. Duel and Buster were the only G-weapons that could be mounted with the equipment, and Yzrak was determined to make use of it. The GINNs too were additionally equipped, M68 Pardus missile launchers strapped to their legs.

It seemed the Commander was really determined to take the fleet, the Legged Ship, the Strike and that MA down here and now.

“Update to Condition Red, all mobile suits prepare for launch,” CIC bleeped through his cockpit. Yzark grinned feral, moving the Duel into place.

Catapulted outside, the Earth was blown up and large, closer than Yzark had ever seen before, but he wasn’t there to see the lauded beauty of it, couldn’t care less even. The targets, a mass of dark spots against the colour below skimmed precariously close to the atmosphere, just as their sensors had confirmed.

Mobile armours swarmed between the larger ships, pretending to be agile. Yzrak tore the first two on approach vector to pieces with hardly a thought. They were a joke. Hardly any more dangerous than flies.

The ships’ canons too were only made dangerous though the location. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Yzark dodged a volley and send return fire, the ship nothing compare to the Legged Ship as it fell to a mere dozen rockets.

He checked his scanners with half an eye, always, searching for that flash of white in the chaos but there was nothing to find, and the Strike’s mother-ship wasn’t even engaged in battle yet, securely positioned at the very back of the fleet like some lam that needed to be protected. No one else reported any sightings either, be it of the mobile suit or the single dangerous mobile armour in existence. 

Half a dozen more destroyed MAs later, it finally clicked. “You bastards!” He roared into the open frequency that had not been invaded by one of two voices that he had almost expected. “Don’t you dare take us lightly! Bring out the Strike or we’re gonna kill you all!”

“Yzark!” Athrun snapped in reprimand over their team channel. Leaving a ship dead in space, the Aegis cut the main (and only) gun of an MA before moving on, displaying grace and efficiency that never failed to irritate. Efficient, _despite_ taking the long way around and _disabling_ ships rather than taking one-hit kill shots.

Yzark’s lips curled in a snarl. “Shut up, you weakling! You can’t even do your duty – don’t you get how serious this is?! They’re trying to drop the ship no matter what!” And they _must not_ let them. Whoever had given Athrun a talking to had obviously done a shit job. Maybe if the Commander tried that arrogant bastard would get his head out of his ass.

Another ship went up in flames, as if to underline his claim. The Duel was already rushing towards the next, advancing instead of taking the flanking ship as standard tactics dictated.

“Yzark, you’re moving too far out front!” Came Nicol, and they were in mid battle, what the hell is that little boy sounding _concerned_ for. “You’re leaving cover.”

“I don’t need cover!” He yelled, landing heavily (gravity!) on the bow of an Agamemnon-class and bringing his sabre up and ‘round. Bridge lost, the ship fell apart under him. Alarms blared, Yzark jerked the controls and only just managed to avoid a volley of artillery. Spinning away, he was forced to sway towards earth. His cockpit screamed -

\- impact rattled the _Duel_. For a moment the explosion blinded him, and that was enough for another volley to hit, forcing him down, and gravity pulled _hard_.

His teammates shouted over the comm, and something that sounded like an order crackled over the line from the Vesalius, but he was hit, _again_, and couldn’t focus on that. In the back of his head a countdown started, ticking down the mere handful of seconds the average Agamemnon and Neslson-classes needed to aim and fire their main canons. The standard fire wasn’t enough to penetrate Phase Shift, even the Naturals wouldn’t miss that, so the only chance was -

Yzark fired the guns he had, making full use of the additional equipment. Not even waiting for the target computer to aim, it was too damn slow for this, Yzark trusted his instincts and aimed.

The steady stream of fire abated only minimally, but enough for him to orient himself and fire the _Duel_’s engines to bring him out of the Earth’s field. Oh, three ships tried to stop him, to keep him pinned down and immobilized by gravity, but without the fourth that was falling out of formation, fire and explosions on its belly – well. Yzark dodged them and advanced again.

“Shut up, idiots!” He snapped into the comm that was sprouting nonsense at him. They thought he was reckless? They were wrong, he knew what he was doing.

Roaring, he sliced at a mobile armour and it spun out of control, turning into a speck of dust that burned in the atmosphere, while he reached the green-zoned height again.

Dearka let out a stream of curses. “The ship’s dropping! But we’re still half the world away from Alaska-?!”

“What?!” Yzark scanned his screens until he found the damn vessel, seeing it sink below the level of the others. “Damn it!” Foot down on the pedal, the _Duel_ drove into the fray. The _Buster_ joined him, taking to ignore the rest of the fleet for the sake of speed.

“Yzark, Dearka, you’re too wide out front!” Athrun pressed. “You’re being reckless!” But the hypocrite had at least some understanding of how serious this was, because Yzark’s sensors told him surprisingly that the _Aegis_ was also rushing into the fray.

The _Blitz _wasn’t. Yzark didn’t know if he was disappointed that it wasn’t, or surprised that the thought even occurred to him that he might.

“Holy-! Are they planning to launch now?” Incredulously, Dearka added another burst of swears. Something white shot out, the screens giving them a close up of...yes! “The _Strike_...and the MA!”

If Yzark weren’t so consumed by burning determination and anger, he might have noticed how Athrun was being suspiciously silent, no know-it-all advice or orders, but there was no reason to suspect that for a moment Athrun had flipped the channel to his teammates close and opened a private one to the _Strike_.

Dearka, equally oblivious, commented with a sharp grin in his voice, “at least they’re not in chatting mood this time.”

No sooner did he say that did their comm chuckled with a flippant voice, “Hi kids, fancy meeting you here!”

Dearka muttered a swear as Yzark grit his teeth, aimed the rifle, and zeroed in on the _Strike_. He pulled the trigger, but it fucking was the same as last time. As if the pilot could read his mind, he nimbly evaded the shots without even being slowed down, no matter the number of blasts Yzark sent his way. Despite the fact that it was still in the crippling pull of Earth.

“The_ Strike’_s equipment's strange.” Dearka pointed out, a frustrated note in his voice. Lining up his two main canons, the _Buster _let loose a shell shot that the _Strike_ had to use its shield for. It didn’t slow down, kept ascending towards them...and _put it’s shield away_?!

Yzark shot, almost without thinking. It didn’t connect –

Shield attached to the hip, the Strike drew a beam sabre with the now freed hand, rifle still in the other. It brought its long range weapon up, and shot, not even a split second between the two actions as though the pilot didn’t even bother to _aim_.

Yzark was forced to dodge, the attack deadly accurate and aimed at the _Duel’_s main camera. Dearka swore again, and spat, “does this guy think he doesn’t need to defend against us or what?!”

“That’s an awfully condescending way of phrasing it,” observed the Hawk, that damnable amusement still in his tone despite the note of grimness. The MA climbed up behind the Strike, bringing only its main gun to bear and forced the _Buster_ to take some distance. “But it’s true that the Kid can probably run rings around you. Don’t take it personally. We’ve got a kick-ass mechanics team that just can do _things_.” The man sighed wistfully. “Wish I could take the _Strike _for a joyride, those tweaks could tempt a saint...Also, the Kid is probably in the Top...lets say Three of Pilots. In the entire Earth Sphere, so it’s not -”

Flipping a couple switches (silencing the noisy one among other things), pushing the scope out of his face, Yzark put the _Duel_’s rifle away and pulled a sabre, not even pretending anymore that he was going to hit the machine in long range combat. Preserving battery was more important, and if there was a chance to beat this guy, it had to be melee, the _Duel_’s strength.

“Dearka, you hit it with shell shots. They won’t penetrate, but at least deal some damage. Athrun, you -”

“I’ll keep the fleet occupied.” The _Aegis_ had fallen behind, well out of drop orbit, now using it’s variety of weapons to keep the fleet distracted, lest they shoot the _Duel_ or the _Buster _in the back while they were distracted by the _Strike._

Yzrak clicked his tongue, but there was nothing for it, Athrun was right (not that he’d ever know it), and then he had no more time for distractions because the _Strike _was charging at him, beam rifle still in one hand and sabre in the other.

The_ Strike_ tried to go for the same manoeuvrer as last time, sliding past him and taking an arm while he was at it.

“Don’t underestimate me, Natural!” Yzrak roared, swaying the _Duel _to the side so that the _Strike’s_ momentum carried it past him. “As if the same trick would work twice!”

The comm answered. “I didn’t expect it to. I don’t have time to fight you right now,” the Strike pilot’s voice said as the machine _didn’t_ turn to face him and instead kept climbing against gravity, shooting out into the fleet. The voice spoke calmly, with only a faint note of tension in it. “And I’m not a Natural.”

It just -

Yzark roared, shoving the Duel’s controls forward.

“You think you can just get away with ignoring me?!”

As if the Duel was practically non-existent!

The _Strike_ was faster, it’s aerial equipment giving it mobility that the Duel lacked and boosting its chances against the pull of gravity.

Bursting into the field, it brushed by the flagship, completely ignoring _Aegis_ and rushing in the direction of the actual front. Yzrak felt his breath stop for an instant, knowing what would happen if…

“Damn you-!” Yzark hit the pedals.

“Yzark, what’s - “ the channel broke, not transmitting the rest as the _Buster _was forced to focus on one enemy, and one enemy only. The MA left him hardly any chance to look around, staying afloat only by the skin of his teeth. By the comments of the Hawk, the man wasn’t even taking it easy on him, thoroughly frustrated with the limitations of his old lady, irritated by gravity, and obnoxious enough to tell him that he’d not let him bother the Kid nonetheless. Needless to say, Dearka’s blood pressure kept rising even though he usually tended to think of himself as laid-back.

From inside the _Aegis_ Athrun watched with tight features as Kira flew off, having a good idea what he was planning from the _Strike_’s equipment. Sadness and bitterness warred with determination and frustration as he methodically shut the rear fleet’s offensive abilities down, knowing he had to protect his friends and fellow soldiers. But he didn’t want to kill anymore. Maybe Yzark was right and he really was a coward. Disabling would not spare them, only spare him the blood on his hands. Le Creuset could and would easily decide to eliminate immobile, defenceless targets. But Athrun didn’t want to kill anyone anymore, and disabling was the best he could do at this moment, with this power, in this place. All he could do.

In the distance, Kira reached the front, a timer showing him the estimated frame he had before he’d have to enter atmosphere on his own. It was the time, ideally, that he had to end this.

A survey of the battle showed that already the fleet was reduced by half. The mobile armours didn’t stand a chance, young, inexperienced pilots all of them. To end this battle...there was no good way.

But there were ways to try. If he couldn’t make it end, one side would eliminate the other, no matter the cost. That was why, even if he tried and failed, nothing would change. Therefore, there was no reason not to try.

Steeling himself, Kira drew the second 57mm rifle.

The differences between the _Strike_ and either of the Freedoms went deep into the bones. No matter what Kira did to the OS, how much he compensated with skill, or what the mechanics added, changed or developed outside, there were some things the Strike just simply _could not do_. It’s battery ran out too fast, the arms lacked stability, it was too base-lined.

The Freedom at least had shared the later feature, but not entirely for its birth-parents had already envisioned its superiority on the battlefield, had predicted that taking on a single mobile suit at a time was a waste of its limitless energy. Still, ZGMF-X10A _Freedom_ had been a _prototype_ of its kind – a test to see what was feasible and what not. What of its many features a pilot could even make use of, and to what extent?

Kira had often taken advantage of that, pushed the machine, reached for its limits, and he had found them eventually. That was how he knew what he needed for _Strike Freedom._ Specialized for him, and him only, the _Strike Freedom_ had offered him the chance to do everything he could, to the best of his abilities within the frame of technology.

There were indeed some things the _Strike _could not do. It did not meet the mechanical requirements for a Multi Lock-On System system. In a battle that would drag him into the atmosphere, the _Strike_ couldn’t handle too much weight either, further limiting his weapons.

But it had two hands, and he could equip two rifles.

And _Strike Freedom_ had been built to shoot as many as precisely as possible. Aiming, to Kira, came in his sleep.

So when he reached the front, he shot in two directions at once, one for the head and one for the arm.

The _Strike_ and its beams were slower than he was used to, could be dodged and blocked. But for now, no one knew to expect that Kira _could _shoot like that. It was an advantage that he expected to be lost after this battle. Like Yzark, they would learn what he could do. With his style so developed it would not take long at all.

The GINNs were damaged, but not damaged enough.

In this battle they were too determined.

Kira kept shooting, dived into the combat zone, only needing to pause to compensate for the _Strike_’s lack of precision to make sure he hit no cockpit. A suit only needed to be in the range of his weapons before he shot them.

GINNs, unlike ZAKUs and GOUFs did not carry shields. It cost them, but they were determined, Kira only had two guns, and he had to shoot any one at least thrice before they withdrew.

“YOU BASTARD!”

Before the _Duel _caught up. An instant was enough to confirm that he had not yet managed to drive all GINNs from the field. The Eighth Fleet was still getting slaughtered.

The timer showed forty five seconds. Cutting it close.

He let himself fall backwards, the _Duel_’s double slashing harmlessly the space over the _Strike_’s head. With Yzark overextend, Kira shot out an arm and the head.

A shocked yell exploded over the line, and despite himself he smiled a bit. Not that Yzark had ever had a good hold on his temper, but he’d definitely learned more control than this.

Continuing the _Strike_’s momentum into a flip, he kicked the Duel away and fled again. There were still half the amount of GINN left. Plus the _Blitz_, which on its own would be enough to finish the fleet. He had no idea where it was, Mirage Colloid doing it’s work well. Not to mention that Nicol was a hell of a lot more cautious than Yzark.

In a one-on-one where he needed the moment of surprise to end it in an instant, Nicol’s type was his worst opponent. Nicol would watch, and wait, and not move until he was reasonably sure he would succeed.

Kira lined up the rifles as he shot forward, the _Strike _pressing each twice, and another GINN was withdrawing. If a MA thought to use the defenceless and withdrawing GINN, then Kira shot in front of their noses too, making them think again. “Don’t shoot those who’re leaving the field,” he warned, not knowing if he was heard or acknowledged, or by whom.

Admiral Halberton was a good man, and meeting him only reaffirmed that impression, but Kira had left the point where he cared about what would appear on his (any) military record behind a long time ago.

Athrun’s words came back to him, though. _Your power is only causing chaos._

Perhaps he was causing chaos again. But maybe there were lines that could be drawn in it. A starting point from which his, the Archangel’s, Lacus, everyone’s wish could be heard.

_Stop fighting._

Alarms blared. Shocked, Kira moved the _Strike _out of the missile’s target range, scanning for the origin of the attack and finding the _Duel_. _Oh no. _He hadn’t returned to the Vesalius? If he hadn’t yet, he wasn’t planning on so long as he could still fight. And the Assault Shroud was difficult to disarm without harming the pilot.

Kira’s hands on the controls moved on autopilot, engaging. The _Duel_’s Igelstellung pelted harmlessly off the _Strike_’s Phase Shift. Holstering one rifle in the small of the _Strike_’s back, Kira drew a sabre, arch slicing around vertically for the Duel’s second arm.

The _Duel_ bent backwards.

Kira bit the inside of his cheek despite what a bad habit it was. To be expected of Yzark, he supposed. His hot head tended to run away with his good sense, but he had instincts, reflexes and intelligence to make up for it.

But it wasn’t quite enough. Again the _Strike_ continued the motion, only slightly altered so that a vertical momentum was converted into a (more or less) upside-down spin.

At the same time the _Duel _continued its backwards shift, leaving the feet at the height of the Strike’s chest. In that position, it didn’t matter that the Strike was still in the middle of its own spin. Bringing the sabre around was a small thing, costing the _Duel_ its feet (but not the legs).

All that happened in under three seconds.

Kira grasped the _Duel_ by one of its legs, rifle abandoned in space for a moment, and tossed the machine towards the ZAFT vessels. On the same frequency as the one the _Duel _used which allowed him to hear Yzark’s yell, he told him, “You should withdraw. Even MAs could damage you now, and I can’t have eyes everywhere.” Which would probably only enrage him more, but at this point there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t.

The Duel righted its vector, and reversed it. Yzark raged wordlessly as he came rushing back.

_This is bad_.

Kira reached for the abandoned rifle -

\- it wasn’t like he left it!

-_ threw the _Strike _to the side with all speed that he had -_

The _Strike_’s internal readout blinked red at the right arm.

Not pausing to check, he twisted the machine around, knowing instinctively what caused him the damage.

His beam sabre flashed four times in quick succession.

_“NICOL!”_

Under mirage colloid, with Phase Shift deactivated, Kira had not seen him coming. The _Blitz_ had taken the weapon, just made the turn of the muzzle towards the _Strike_’s cockpit look natural, and pulled the trigger.

It was brilliant. The _Blitz_ own weapons would have left the cover of Mirage Colloid before they reached the _Strike_, but using a nearby weapon that was Kira’s in the first place…

“That was a good tactic,” Kira admitted to the floating body of the now dark coloured suit. “You almost got me.”

“...almost isn’t enough, I’m sorry.” Nicol truly sounded it too. He would have killed him, he would have been sorry, but he would have done it. Was that what it had been like for Waltfeld-san? To know that, and to fight with that burden.

“You shitty bastard!” Roared Yzark. At this point Kira doubted that even Yzark knew what he was angry about.

Kira sighed, turning to face the _Duel_, again, but still addressing Nicol. “Will you withdraw at least?”

“...I’m not being given a choice, like this.”

“...I’m sorry,” said Kira softly. “I know what it’s like to feel powerless, but this is the best option I could come up with. But you don’t need to fear me, I promise.” Stepping down on the pedal, he made the _Strike _take off. He could not waste time kicking Yzark off the field when the battle was still raging. The timer had clicked down to zero some time ago, meaning that boarding the _Archangel_ was no longer possible.

A glance revealed that the _Aegis_ was working its way towards them, one ship at a time. Disabling them.

Kira’s heart hurt. They could only hope. There was no way around it yet, not when they didn’t know what was going to happen to the Archangel – Athrun _could_n’t come back with him yet, even if he weren’t needed in ZAFT.

But for that, so that Athrun’s work may not be in vain, Kira could not leave a single GINN still out and about. He pushed the _Strike_’s speed to the limit, hunting the units down while quickly setting up an alert on the _Duel,_ which still wasn’t withdrawing, damn it. For a brief moment he wondered where the _Buster _was, but put the thought aside.

Still the Gundams out of the way, Kira decimated the remaining GINNs in short order. They tried to fight him, weren’t quite bad at it for the current state of general mobile suit combat. For all their effort however, Kira still got the last of them.

It jerked towards him, movement awkward, and _blew itself up_.

Kira’s eyes widened and he backed off as if that would somehow change anything when scrap metal was already the only thing that was still left.

He checked the _Strike_, but it showed no damage but the bruise from the _Blitz_.

It blew itself up.

Trying to take him with it?

Muscles tightening then forcefully relaxing Kira turned away, curving along the green zone to reach the best vector to hit the _Archangel_. He could still see the ship on his screens, but not for much longer.

(If he happened to ignore the _Aegis _while he was at it, it could always be argued in Athrun’s defence that the _Strike _had run out of time and needed to catch its ship, and besides, _he_ was busy with the fleet and with the MAs.)

(In Kira’s defence, should a situation where Halberton would question him ever come up, orders were for the _Archangel _and the_ Strike_ to descend safely, not to fight, so that was really all that Kira was doing.)

Gravity pulled. Kira grimaced internally bracing himself already for the heat and the fever that was about to come.

But before started to actively head down he pulled out the keypad and made a few adjustments. No need for energy in the weapons now. Life-support and PS as primary, and then he went, bracing the _Strike_’s shield in front of him.

“K--a!” Athrun’s voice’s, alarmed and shocked, breached the cockpit. A warning. “_Yza--_!”

Despite knowing what a bad idea it was, that he would not have manoeuvrability for much longer, he turned the Strike around so that it’s Aile Pack was greeting the Earth first. His with static and pressure flickering main camera showed the Duel, following him into the atmosphere.

_No_.

A red dot, in the distance detached from the fleet and soared in their direction, not entering the atmosphere, but hovering above. Considering.

“What are you _doing_?!” Kira shouted at the _Duel_, body feeling heavy now and alarms blaring as the temperature kept rising.

Unlike the _Strike_, the _Duel_ was damaged, it’s protective Phase Shift destroyed in several places.

It would burn in the atmosphere!

Hoping for the span of a heartbeat, Kira checked his altitude. His stomach twisted; if at this height, not even the_ Strike’_s aerial equipment could carry him back up, the _Duel _didn’t stand a chance.

The _Duel_ didn’t care.

Glowing red from heat of re-entry, it cut a menacing figure as it pulled it’s beam sabre. Trying to close the distance between them. Using gravity to lock down Kira’s nimble movements to destroy him, even if it cost Yzark his life?

Kira’s hands flew over the keyboard, running calculations in his head. _Damn_. He dropped both rifles to get rid of even their additional weight, pulled the _Strike_’s sabre, and met the Duel’s charge. “Are you crazy?! Do you want to die?”

“Fu--- u--! E---h--For---_Strike_! I’ll take—t th- PLANTs!” The interference lessened with the Duel’s close proximity.

“Damn it!” Kira checked their vector and found to his horror that it was already different from the _Archangel_’s. They’d land hundreds of miles apart. He grit his teeth, detached one of the _Strike_’s hands from the sabre to grasp the _Duel_’s wrist. “You idiot! If you want to protect the PLANTs, then live! If you’re dead you can’t protect a single thing!”

“Shut the hell up! As if I’d let the damn EA have a weapon they’d use to kill us all! As if some damn Natural like you understands what the hell you’re talking about!”

Restricting its movements that way at least some, he slid his sabre down to the handle of the Duel’s, melting the weapon without opening an additional hole for the atmosphere to gnaw on.

“I’m not a Natural!” Kira shouted back through grit teeth. “I’m a Coordinator! A woman who was like my aunt died on Junius Seven! I want to protect the PLANTs too! But just fighting alone is not enough!”

Movements feeling sludgy, he dropped the _Strike_’s own sabre, again to lose that weight. Doing yet again something that caught the _Duel_ by surprise, he wound an arm around the _Duel_’s neck, like a choke-hold, and transferred the _Strike_’s shield to that hand to protect as much of the Duel’s vulnerable body as he could. “If you want to protect the PLANTs, then live, damn it! There’s got to be an answer that won’t just end in death!”

That left him without a shield. The _Strike _was no _Freedom_, it couldn’t manage on its own.

Kira might die.

Or he might not.

He didn’t know for sure.

He wouldn’t have to find out either, because he wasn’t alone.

The _Aegis_’ shield was a bit faster than them because Athrun had tossed it down while Kira had started to fight against gravity again. Catching a shield was a feat he’d have been able to do in the blink of an eye in space, but in the pull of gravity….The _Strike_ was horribly slow by now, and an act like that required speed.

Kira’s hands didn’t clench around the controls, but only because he didn’t let them, his stomach knotting.

How much could estimates, calculations and instincts compensate?

Timing carefully, the_ Strike’_s hand moved at just the right moment to snag the shield.

And down below, far below, the _Archangel_ was changing its vector with its powerful thrusters, manoeuvring below them.

Kira allowed himself a smile just before hitting the simple landing-AI he’d programmed before going out. He passed out.


	6. Blink, and talk

“Here we were, breaking our heads, and when all’s good and done here we are. Yet again in the Tiger’s backyard. Not quite smack dab, but close enough.” A sigh. “Nice guy, but on the other side of the battlefield...Damn.”

“The Desert Tiger?” Sharply said. “You’ve encountered the Desert Tiger before, Commander La Flager? This is his territory.”

“Sure is, haven’t met him though. Just heard good things about him. As a person. Only bad things for us on the other side, sorry, Lieutenant.”

“…we should have called the Strike back sooner, Captain. This situation is unacceptable.”

“…What’s done is done, Natarle. For all that I do think Kira-kun’s actions were appropriate, that is not what we should discuss right now.”

“It’s not merely that. While the damage to the _Strike_ might be in hand, with Ensign Yamato down, this ship is defenceless. In unfamiliar, hostile territory without allies in sight our options are severely limited. This is a crisis.”

“…are we without allies?”

“What do you mean, Commander?”

“Yeah, well, it’s just…the things I heard about the Tiger. I wouldn’t have heard a thing if there weren’t someone here to apply those tactics to, you know.”

“…what are you saying?”

“Well, it might just be worth checking out the local resistance, is all I’m saying.”

.

.

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.

“Gentlemen.”

Nicol suppressed the urge to winch, never having dealt with disappointing someone well.

“I don’t think I have to tell you what a disaster our showing was. High Command wishes to review our conduct personally. Brace yourselves, gentlemen. If you have excuses get them ready, you will need them. And Athrun. The defence committee wants to talk to you _personally_.”

His stomach knotting at the flat announcement, Nicol glanced at Athrun from the corner of his eyes.

His friend gave nothing of what he was thinking away, not even flinching at the implications. If anything, Nicol had to say that Athrun’s eyes were dark with concealed hostility as he kept his eyes straight and narrow.

The Commander sighed, official aura abating a bit. “All of us here know we fought well. All of us know that with the means we had available nothing else could be done. I submitted a report and battle record, of course, but I doubt High Command will be able to truly grasp the threat we face now that the machine is down on Earth. Not until it’s too late. To be understood, of course, not even we could have imagined such an end to the battle. But remember, men. We had a chance to end it before it got too far. We failed. Everything that will happen after this will be on our head.”

The air was stifling to breathe, cold and filled with dread as the commander’s gaze swept over them heavily. “Remember that. Dismissed.”

Nicol’s shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to turn and face his friend as they…made their way off the bridge?

“Is something the matter, Athrun?” The commander addressed the one still staying behind

“Sir, have we had word from Gibraltar or Carpentaria yet?”

The commander’s lips thinned as he shook his head. “We’ve been able to estimate the ship’s landing zone, but there was no sign of the _Buster_ or the _Duel_. At 0000 tomorrow, they will be labelled MIA.”

Nicol swallowed painfully.

Athrun just nodded, face of stone, and together they floated into the now-empty elevator.

“…do you think they’re alive?”

“Yes.”

Nicol did a near double take, finding himself staring at Athrun, taken aback at the _utter certainty_. Doors sliding open, they push off into the belly of the Vesalius. For a moment Nicol debated, then decided he’d rather hope than live with resignation. “How can you be so sure?”

Athrun’s eyes flickered towards him, and for the first time since they were told they’d be making a move on the Eighth Fleet seemed to lose some of the upset he tried so hard to hide behind indifference. “The Gundams can make re-entry on their own, and Dearka and Yzark are too stubborn to die from something like this.”

Gundams? “…I guess so.” Nicol bit his lip. “But it’s not safe. They’d need medical attention. But we haven’t found them. And I saw the recording. It’s a shame your trick with the shield didn’t work.” Admittedly, Nicol didn’t know what exactly the trick had been supposed to do. Given the _Duel_ a shield, he assumed, for descend. Or maybe an attack against the Strike.

Blowing out a breath, Athrun said, “using the Mirage Colloid like that was…a good idea too. You…almost got him.” His voice and face did something that Nicol didn’t know how to interpret, charged with an indefinable emotion, before he very obviously forced himself to smile at Nicol.

Nicol shook his head, remembering. “If only I had, maybe Yzark wouldn’t have…but it moved _so fast._ I’ve never seen anything like it. Even though Strike is not so different from our machines…just what sort of pilot is that.”

“A Coordinator.”

“What?”

Athrun ran a hand through his hair, looking troubled, doubtful, hesitant almost as he seemed to search Nicol for something. It made Nicol nervous, but Athrun seemed to find whatever he was looking for, because he said, “A Coordinator. Lacus said he took good care of her. His name is Kira Yamato. He was the one escorting Lacus down to the hanger. If you remember that.”

What - “…a _Coordinator_…? But _why_ would…” In silent shock, Nicol almost didn’t notice when they reached the corner where they separated for their respective quarters.

Athrun caught himself and gave Nicol a silently troubled look, again a complex emotion Nicol couldn’t read showing itself. “…Lacus will have already mentioned this to her father…so, if High Command hasn’t informed the Commander of it yet…he doesn’t need to know.”

Keeping relevant information from their commanding officer wasn’t just against military protocol. It went against regulations and would, if found out, get them demoted at best. Perhaps Athrun had a point that High Command could inform their commander just as well, but it was a grey zone at best. For dutiful, respectful Athrun to say something like this…

Nicol chewed the inside of his lips, worried and uneasy in a way even missions didn’t make him“…what happened to you, Athrun? This isn’t like you. Ever since you went out at Heliopolis, you’re... like a different person.”

Athrun stiffened, jaw clenching.

In the end, all the said in a tone laced with bitter exhaustion, “I grew up.”

.

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It was like someone hat set fire to his blood. Vaguely aware of people’s presence around him, it burned him, and took his consciousness with it.

“…reck….if….almost….”

“….at….rest….”

“…can’t…tell…out…”

Murmurs he didn’t know to make sense of drifted into his subconsciousness from time to time before the heat swallowed him again. There was something important he was forgetting…

The next time he woke, it was different, clearer, cooler. Something itched in the back of his head yet annoying slipped his grasp.

Voices, again. One too soft to understand, the other an adult man with flat tone.

“No….one week, I said.”

“….”

“…I don’t _care_, Kid. The Commander…”

“…”

“…shouldn’t have….understaffed, so priorities…”

“…”

“…touch and go for a while…._not_ leaving until I say so…”

Something was off. He forced his eyes to peel open. Shades of white or pale greys and blues everywhere. Eventually he managed to identify a ceiling above, his brain taking what felt like hours to conclude that it was uninteresting and irrelevant.

Yzark forced his head to turn.

The place was unfamiliar, an infirmary if he had to guess. An IV stood next to his bed, dropping clear liquid into a line leading to the back of his hand. In another bed opposite of his, someone else lay awake, arms folded behind his head. Yzrak didn’t recognize him.

His gaze continued onwards. There was a man with dark blond hair sitting on a stool next to the door, a technological clipboard in hand which he read, a doctor’s coat haphazardly over the back of his chair.

Wearing, clearly, one of the less recognizable types of EA uniform underneath.

Suddenly everything clicked into place, his last memory flooded back. He reared back from the sight, trying, and failing to coordinate into some defensive position.

But his body wouldn’t work, limbs feeling like weak twigs.

Something bit into his wrists, keeping his arms locked together and awkward. Thin handcuffs tied him with a thin wire to the bed.

Yzark glared, tried pulling but nothing gave. Tried twisting his hands out, but the cuffs were too tight.

“…I guess that our guest is finally up.” The doctor put his tablet down on his desk and stood, coming to check his IV. “How are you feeling, Joule-san?” Yzark tore the IV out, lips curling in a snarl, mind listing all the drugs ZAFT knew the EA fed its prisoners.

The Natural doctor gave him an unimpressed once over, an eyebrow rising drily. “Just as well, I suppose. Not like you need it anymore, now that you’re conscious to drink water.”

From a cabinet, the man casually tossed him a sealed bottle of clear liquid as he passed Yzark on his way to the door. “I’ll inform the Captain that our second prisoner re-joined the land of the living. I’ll leave him to you, Kid.”

The one on the other bed, having sat up by now and studying Yzark with a sombre gaze, gave a non-verbal hum of acknowledgement. Yzark felt his shoulders tense defensively, something about that guy making him bristle.

Behind him, the white door slid shut with a hiss, effectively leaving Yzark alone with another patient, unsupervised, without a guard or a weapon in sight. Yzark turned his back to the other guy, hiding his hands, and started twisting his wrists, not willing to let this chance slip by him even if he had to dislocate his fingers.

“I know it doesn’t mean much from me, but you shouldn’t brother. Even if you got out of those, your body’s still too weak to do much.”

Mind stalling to a halt, Yzark’s fists clenched and unclenched, indeed feeling weak, but that was the least of his worries. He _recognized that voice_.

Despite his better sense, the handcuffs found themselves temporarily abandoned as Yzark studied the bastard.

He was young, like his voice.

Solemn, something about that aura familiarly irritating, with eyes that –

During descend, he remembered now, that claim had shocked him out of taking advantage of the Strike’s proximity with whatever fire the Assault Shroud still had left, but only for a moment. It had been_ that _and _nothing else_ that pilot said that made Yzark miss his chance. He’d passed out, failing, and that had made him recognize that the claim must have been a mere tactic to stall him. A last-ditch attempt at saving his own life.

Wait.

…While trying to shield the _Duel_ against the atmosphere…?

“…you’re a…a…”

“Mmmm,” said guy, tilting his head. A sheet pooled around his waist, a light blue shirt, casual EA style, serving as his hospital robe as he leaned his back against the wall. “And so are you.”

“You’re a ...a...and you’re…._you’re a traitor!_”

It was impossible, that there should be Coordinators – Yzark’s blood boiled with rage, his gut twisting with something he didn’t want to name. That Coordinators would – Fucking Naturals – Junius Seven – their _home_ –

Light dimmed in the traitor’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. “I’ve been called that before,” he admitted. “Not just by ZAFT or Coordinators, but I…how can I be a traitor to a cause I never signed up for? I just want peace, and if that means that people wearing uniforms call me a traitor, then…it’s not nice, but I won’t let that stop me.”

“So you sided with the Naturals. For _peace_,” sneered Yzark. “You’re crazy! Or brainwashed! The Naturals don’t want peace!” Carefully, he started working his handcuffs again.

“They do, though.” Lips thinning, the other conceded cautiously, “The top of the EA might not, and Blue Cosmos’ version of peace is not an acceptable one, but Naturals want peace too. The people on this ship, for example. We’re all just humans.” He saddened visibly, emotions appallingly – in the presence of a stranger!- obvious. “We shouldn’t have to kill each other to feel safe.”

Yzark snorted derisively. A bit more and he’d have his first hand free. Carefully he kept any pain from showing. “And that’s your lame ass excuse why you’re fucking _playing around_ on the battle field?”

The hands visible in the guy’s lap clenched to fists and his expression tightened. “…playing? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

Yzark sneered, letting that speak for him.

What was he even doing, talking to some traitorous, delusional bastard? It had to be because he was a Coordinator.

(A nagging suspicion told him that wasn’t right. There was just something about this bastard that had Yzark…not off-guard, but…familiar. Something was familiar. He’d bet his life he’d never seen the _Strike_’s pilot before, but. Not his manners. Not his demeanour. But something struck a familiar chord.)

The traitorous fool sighed, eyes closing with some complex emotion. “I never want to fight,” he stated eventually, pronouncing the words slowly and with great care as he kept his gaze steady on Yzark. “Just like you fight for PLANT, I’ve got my home and friends here to protect. But just because I don’t have…a choice, _at the moment_…that doesn’t mean I have to kill.”

When he met Yzark’s eyes, there was steel in a gaze that Yzark had previously thought weak and spineless. The sudden change in impression was eerie, chilling, because those were not the eyes of a misguided fool. Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing – or thought he did. Most dangerous of all, he_ believed_ it. “I have the skill not to,” he went on to say, tone flat before gaining an emotional softness that had nothing to do in a person so dangerous. _Nicol_, Yzark thought, the comparison hitting him out of the blue.

But no.

While it was true the softness in someone who could so easily pull the trigger was akin to Nicol, it wasn’t Nicol that Yzark was reminded of.

It was Atrhun.

“Do you really believe that there’s anything more important than coming out of a battle alive? Dying honourable? To martyr? I’m not killing anyone just because someone thinks they’d prefer death over defeat.” Definitely Athrun. Which said a hell of a lot about why just being in the mere presence of this traitor had him bristling. Yzark could just see how his rival would have used those words. That flat tone, the unimpressed gaze, that judging twitch of his jaw as he tried to _not _give his holier-than-thou opinion….

If it’d been Athrun that said it, it would have been fine.

Athrun was a fine bastard, but he was still a Coordinator proud of his heritage.

Yet this no-name...…

“How_ dare _you,” Yzark bit out, too strangled by rage to even shout. If he had his hands free, he’d be lounging to strangle the bastard where he sat. “How. Fucking_. Dare. _You. Make. Light. Of-“

Emotions bubbled up his throat, unable to translate into words, not even curses.

The only time before when he’d felt rage like this was when he’d heard about Junius Seven, the cowardly strike of the Naturals. Against _civilians_. When he’d heard that his father had died in the battle. When it had sunk _in_.

Here, he couldn’t throw himself into training, or beat people up, or have his mother redirect him with a few sharp words.

He remembered the Greenie, the one whose name he didn’t even know. _Nothing as terrifying,_ he had said. And he had gone out anyway to face his nightmare. For ZAFT. Was he the one who’d blown himself up? Yzark didn’t know and had no way to find out.

How _dare_ this Natural-lover make light of the determination it took to get into a cockpit. To go out and know they might die, but they had to, to protect their homes, and families.

Knowing that there was _no where else to live_.

Knowing that if they didn’t fight, and _win_ this war, every last man, woman and Coordinator child would be _murdered in cold blood_.

How dare he look down on their _right _to get even and the right to fight for their life.

Yzark glared hatefully, wrenching one hand free. Finally.

The water bottle flew at lighting speed to hopefully crush an eye, an enraged yell escaping him.

Not even the bottle dented when it hit the wall.

His arm trembled nonetheless from the effort.

The boy picked the bottle up, sighed, and gently tossed it back on Yzark’s bed, where it rolled until it his Yzark’s legs. “You should drink.”

Roaring, Yzark hurled it at him again. “Arrogant bastard!”

The ignorant_ traitor_ tossed it back.

Yzark screamed in rage, reusing the projectile again. “Traitor! Coward!”

Back.

“You mother**** son of a –“

Back.

“How fucking _dare_ you?!”

The metal doors slid open. The *****, the bottle just in his hands again, looked over in that direction, and passed the water back to Yzark nonetheless.

Snarling, Yzark tried again. Who cared if there were witnesses?! This bastard – this bastard at least –

One of the newcomers cleared her throat. “What is going on here? Kira-kun? Why is he half out of his handcuffs?”

Rolling the plastic bottle between his palms for a moment, an awkward smile was turned on the newcomers. “I think I may have said something that was misunderstood-“

“-_Misunderstood_?!” Snarled Yzark.

“-Sorry, Captain, Lieutenant, Commander. But I thought letting Yzark calm down before you arrived would be best.”

The woman, front and centre, the one Yzark recognized from the transmission about Lady Lacus pinched the bridge of her nose, shoulders slumping.

“Unacceptable, Ensign Yamato.” Another woman, this one dark haired and hard faced, reached with a hand for a sidearm. “Letting a prisoner even partially out of assigned restrictions is a serious breach in protocol. Additionally, the prisoner is a Coordinator and therefore not to be compared with the threat a Natural would present in the same situation –“

“- and is that how mass executions are justified? Is that the legitimized reason for withholding medical treatment of wounded? Are inhumane conditions in work camps acceptable because the higher ups decided they aren’t human anymore?” The boy asked sharply, his shoulders straightening where he sat.

Yzark stared incredulously. Change of tone much?

“Out of line, Ensign Yamato,” the woman snapped back, demeanour clipped.

A moment passed where the two stared at each other, tension…somehow limited to the two of them alone.

The Captain, and the man who had to be the mentioned ‘Commander’, just looked on with slightly troubled expressions. Not, incredibly, upset with their Coordinator pet for question their ways, but eyes subtly on the Lieutenant. Watching _her._

“Do you truly think that’s right, Lieutentant?” The boy asked suddenly gently, almost kindly. “People are people. You know that, don’t you.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, her head tilting up in what seemed to be an unconscious withdrawal into military posture. Yzark never left the side arm out of his sight, watching how her hands tightened around it as she opened her mouth to return something cutting.

But an other voice got ahead, the man speaking up as he ran hand through his hair tiredly. “Alright, Kid, that’s enough.” The stare off broke as attention flickered to him. “Step a bit off the gas.”

Not until now did the Captain woman show any reaction, saying reluctantly, with a barely hidden awkwardness, “Please, Kira-kun. You were...out of line, we’ll have to discuss some punishment.”

‘Kira-kun’…didn’t move much at all, only a slight change in body language, yet it was as if his presence had suddenly withdrawn from the room. It left the infirmary clearer, sterile…flat.

Yzark narrowed his eyes, mind racing, and filed this whole bizarre scene situation away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” the boy said, genuinely sounding it. Shuffling on his bed until his feet peaked out, he pushed himself into a waiting pair of EA standards shoes.

The commander – voice recognition said the Hawk - took a quick few steps forward and pushed the Coordinator back down. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Half concealed behind the man’s back – the man had his _back_ to Yzark! Fully knowing that Yzark was trying to slip his cuffs! - Yzark still saw the traitor’s expression puzzle. “Uhmm…but aren’t you here to question Yzark?”

“Sure. How does that translate in you getting up?”

“…but…” the traitor’s eyes flickered to the Lieutenant. “I shouldn’t be here for that, should I? I mean…not now.”

“Ensign Yamato is correct,” said woman stated crisply, previous stand off replaced with impartial professionalism. Unlike the rest of them, she was carefully watching Yzark. “His presence is not required and given the obvious risk of becoming compromised, we’re obligated to see him removed.”

The Captain woman’s face, outside of her Lieutenant’s line of sight, grimaced. “…military protocol, Commander.” Getting her expression under control, she added. “Ensign Yamato is permitted to relocate to his quarters until told otherwise.”

The man shot the woman an incredulous glance. She shrugged helplessly in return, carefully just so her Lieutenant would not see.

Yzark’s mind kept up, putting the byplay, the obviously not united front into shelves. They were here for him, didn’t even pay him any mind, and were mostly concerned with…what?

Pulling a volunteer style EA uniform from a hanger, the traitor slipped past the officers, palming the door open, motion suspiciously eager. On his way he put Yzark’s one weapon – water bottle- well out of reach on the doctor’s desk. Damn.

But he didn’t escape before the Hawk tossed after him, “that still means bed-rest, Kid! No side trips to the brig. Or your friends! No work either! Or we’ll report you to the higher ups!”

The traitor’s head turned to shoot a _glare_ over his shoulder before the door slid shut.

Unimpressed, the Hawk just chuckled with great fondness. “Ah, that never gets old.”

“Commander that was uncalled for,” reprimanded the dark-haired woman even as she was now watching Yzark like a hawk for any suspicious movements. “Circumstances could not be helped, and I have no doubt they will take that into consideration. However, he is a Coordinator…”

“I don’t have the faith you seem to have in the top brass,” he commented in return, walking over to the doctor’s desk and taking a second pair of handcuffs plus cord from a box with which he then headed over to Yzark. “But I didn’t mean them. Just an inside joke, Lieutenant, don’t worry about it.”

Glaring filthily and being extra uncooperative just because, Yzark was forced to let himself be chained anew.

Something flickered over the woman’s face. “I see,” she stated primly, and looked straight ahead, passive as a Lieutenant ought to be in presence of the Captain.

Said Captain sighed, the sound disappearing under the Hawk of Endymion’s low whistle. “Damn, kid. The Doc’ll have to take a look at this…guess nothing to be said for the determination of ZAFT.” Shooting him a sly smirk, he added, “or was it temper?”

“…let’s just get on with it,” the Captain said, looking like she dearly wanted nothing more than to sigh, again. Taking a seat on the doctor’s stool once it was placed closer to Yzark’s bed, she gave him a professional once over. The first professional action Yzark had seen her take.

How had this ship escaped them again?

The three ranking officers couldn’t even present a united front in front of a prisoner, the only one who vaguely seemed to care about what regulations said was the lowest rank of them all, and even she seemed to realize what a lost battle she’s fighting.

“I’m this ship’s Captain, Murrue Ramius. These are Commander Muu La Flaga and Lieutenant Badgiruel. You are Yzark Joule-kun, yes?”

Yzark glared. If the female thought she could butter him up with some fake manners she was going to be in for an ugly surprise.

At the Academy ZAFT kept its lessons on T&I short and theoretical – no use scaring off the recruits, and capture was an unlikely case anyway – but included in the curriculum had been the drugs the EA used on their prisoners for any manner of reasons as well as their tactics. At the very top of that list had been drugs to make them submissive and interrogation that gave them hope of fair treatment.

But damn if he didn’t want to know how they knew his name. To have reason to look up Councilwoman Joule they’d need a reason to suspect first.

The Captain smiled, knowingly and maybe even a bit amused at his stubborn silence.

Yzakr glared harder.

From the traitor’s bed, where the Hawk had flopped, a smothered snort sounded, causing the women’s faces to become pinched.

“Like your friend, the Buster’s pilot, you’ll be treated as according to the Serenade Rights. Medical treatment, food, bed, clothes, human interaction. There’s nothing we want to know at this moment, so don’t worry about interrogation either.” A smile played around her lips “Though it’s not as though you’ll believe me.”

Damn straight. Believing a single word from people who had him at their mercy and who were the enemy was the first step into getting caught in a trap.

(…going by the displeased twist of the Lieutenant’s mouth, something was going on that a by-the-book soldier didn’t like, though.)

For a few minutes more the woman informed of him what he was to expect, what had happened to get him in this situation and how long he could expect it to stay this way – till Alaska as a POW. Great.

Eventually the women left, abandoning him to the chatty company of the freaking Hawk of Endymion who was nothing like his reputation (as if the comm chatter hadn’t already confirmed that), letting the man keep an eye on him until the doctor returned to treat his hand.

Shortly after the traitorous Coordinator came back, crawling back into his bed under the sharp gaze of the doctor and attentive one of La Flaga’s. Once the doctor gave the okay, a pair of security personal came and led Yzark off, carrying a bunch of bottles in their arms instead of having their weapons at ready. Yzark grit his teeth and pretended that it was a weakness to be exploited on their parts and not a sign of how helpless he was.

Hands bound behind his back, Yzark eventually arrived in the brig, grey light greeting him. Grey everything.

“Yo, Elseman,” one of his escort called. “We got ya buddy. Told ya he we had him.”

The sound of scrambled movement later, Dearka’s hands closed around the bars of a cell, complexion…not pale, as it should be in prison, shock written plain over his face. “…Yzark…”

Yzark turned his head away feeling unexpectedly humiliated at being seen in this state even as frustration (with Dearka’s stupidity to get himself caught) and relief (at not being alone) warred inside.

The escort who’d called out approached Dearka’s cell, handing all his bottles through the bars. “Drinking good?”

For a brief moment Yzark debated rushing the man so that Dearka would be able to reach through the bars and choke him out, but that would still leave them with the second guard and a single look had already revealed that the locks were keyed not with codes not cards.

Dearka took the bottles of dubious content without a moment of hesitation, nonetheless guardedly eyeing the offerer. “Why don’t you just ask the kids?”

The man shrugged. “Why would I? You’re not_ that _interesting to gossip about.”

Dearka’s expression remained suspicious on the man’s back as he turned to guide Yzark in the cell opposite. The second man’s armful was dropped on what – and Yzark’s stomach dropped, suddenly faced with how real this was- was to be Yzark’s cot.

Only once that man had vacated the prison did the first prompt Yzark inside, leaving his hands still bound behind back. The door clicked shut and the lock beeped.

“Get over here and turn around,” he instructed, tone nothing like what an EA soldier is supposed to speak like to Coordinator prisoners. Casual, a bit bored, a request than an instruction.

What would happen if Yzark didn’t? Testing boundaries would be paramount but to do anything…he’s need his hands free. Gritting his teeth some more, Yzark did as asked.

His wrists regained their freedom with a quiet click. Yzark pulled them in front of him, refusing to do something as telling as rubbing them, instead whirling and darkly eyeing the two men who strolled out of the brig without a worry in sight, joking between them.

Out.

As in leaving two prisoners unsupervised.

As in two prisoners who were not only acquaintances, but who were teammates.

Dearka heaved a breath somewhere between frustration and resignation. “Yeah, they do that. Don’t know how long you’ve been awake, but this ship is _weird_ man.”

“I noticed,” snapped Yzark back, mood foul to drown out the sudden insecurity sinking in.

Eyeing him, Dearka asked, “you got ‘questioned’ yet?”

“I was given a run down.”

“…same here. This is not what we learned to deal with.” In theory at least. “What’re we gonna do?”

“Get out obviously.” But he understood where Dearka was coming from. At the Academy they’d been drilled on the theory on how to protect themselves and their mind from the effects of capture, but those patterns didn’t hold when there was nothing to apply them to. …leaving them without anything to rely on.


	7. Blink, and adjust

“All hands Level One battle stations! I repeat, all hands Level One Battle stations!”

Sarah Wallace, a mechanic transfer from the _Montgomery_, found that there was probably something incredibly wrong somewhere when her first reaction to the announcement wasn’t to feel tension and nerves jump and the terror of waiting to get a hold on her throat. Instead she muttered a swear and flicked off her study material.

Study material.

She was a thirty-year-old mechanic with some ten years of professional experience (even if only one and a half of that were military). Prior to signing up to the military she’d done all her degrees, done some independent inventive tinkering, and especially after enlisting she’d kept up to date with all revolutionary developments.

All of that led for some reason to her and her fellow newbie mechanics getting their tools stolen, a chair shoved under their behinds and the upgrades the Archangel had done to the Strike so far getting shoved in their hands. To study.

Because apparently all mechanics on this ship but them were some wild prodigies who should have never entered the same breathing space. What’d they’d come up with so far…

Morgenröte’s tech was advanced enough to get her head around. But this…

“Where did you come up with these _ideas?_” She’d let slip some few hours after transfer, and the crew had only been able to collectively shrug and scratch their heads.

“It had just come up,” she’d been told. “The next step, yeah?”

“Just seemed logical,” was another. As if logic was actually a factor on this ship.

If it were, her fellow mechanics would not eye the entrances to the hanger like some distinctive breed of mother bear instead of scrambling to ready the machines. Oh, they were readying the _Strike_, but it was more of a by-the-way kind of thing.

Up on one of the walkways, the door opened, and all attuned eyes turned, suspicious.

“Wow!” Said the voice of Commander La Flaga as his feet echoed as he ran towards the Strike, flight suit already on. “What an impact. The kid not ‘round yet, I’m assuming!”

“And he had better not,” someone called back with an audible scowl. “If the Little Chief is gonna come by he had better be on his best behaviour, in best health, or we’re all gonna be a head shorter!”

Another thing. Who was ‘Little Chief’?

Who was the ‘ZAFT Kid’ that had been a point of reference long before the Archangel had ever acquired any prisoners. Who Lady Lacus was was fairly obvious, but why did she come up in casual conversation? Who were the higher ups (that obviously weren’t the EA higher ups) they felt hung alternatively over their or the Kid’s head?

Just to confirm, she traded looks with Rick and Jean, them just as baffled by the reference.

The Archangel was full of such nonsense inside talk that just made them sound crazy. That impression wasn’t helped by the fact by their ace pilot.

While Commander La Falga slipped into the Strike and the ship shook with vibrations, Sarah did her part to clear the _Strike_’s path to the catapult before finding herself eyeing entrances to the hanger with just as suspicious eyes as the rest of them.

Just because it was weird didn’t stop her from getting swept up in the pace, so when the kid came running into the hanger, also in flight suit, she stopped, crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

Along with the half of the mechanics crew that wasn’t busy with the Strike.

“Bed rest, Kid,” spoke the commander with the _Strike’_s speakers, voice booming and rattling in her ears. “I’ve got this.”

Said kid, their precious Coordinator pilot, had come to a stop just as he entered the hanger, gave the _Strike_ a piercing look as though he could see to the very depth of the pilot within before his tension visibly melted off and he shrugged. “Watch out for the sand, Muu-san, and the helicopters!” he called at the mobile suit. “The Strike can’t fly yet!”

And that was it.

The kid was a confusing mix of paradoxes. On the one hand his dislike of fighting couldn’t be more obvious. On the other hand he was always quick and ready to go out, driven even to the point of ignoring his personal health. Hence the current situation.

On the other other hand it didn’t take long to clue in on the fact that he didn’t even like working on the machines. Yet he had to be frequently reminded to take breaks or, you know, sleep and solved problems with the _Strike_’s applications in his free time.

That wasn’t even going into how everyone treated him.

“Hey, hey, I’m not an amateur, kiddy.” The _Strike_ was ferried onto the catapult and that was it with that too.

“Don’t even think about the _Duel_ or _Buster_, Kid!” The Chief was at the other end of the hanger but didn’t seem to care about that.

The kid smiled, somewhat amused. “_Duel_ and _Buster_ aren’t my machines,” he simply said, before turning back around and heading towards one of the changing rooms. “Besides, Muu-san should have this.”

“Damn straight,” laughed – laughed! While Level One battle stations and explosions rattling the ship – Jonas, waving a spanner threateningly. “So you have no excuse not to head back to bed. You’re free the day after tomorrow, we’ve got some things for you to look over then!”

To okay or dismiss he meant.

In the hanger and most of the rest of the ship, the only appropriate way to address this particular Ensign, out-ranking 95% of the ship, was ‘Kid’. Unless you were of the same age, Lieutenant Badgiruel or the Captain, that was the way to go. Not the faintest bit of mean spirit implied.

And while yes, sure, the kid outranked them, he was a Coordinator on an EA ship (not that it mattered to Sarah once she got over the surprise), the mix between weird deference and teasing and protectiveness was difficult to get swept up in when Sarah was forced to remember that this was a _kid _pulled into war _by circumstances_, trialled by fire, _without any military training whatsoever_, and they expected him to go out and risk his life for them.

She had something of an ethical problem with that that wasn’t easy to ignore, especially once she found out that it wasn’t because the kid was the only one able to pilot their main weapon.

“Nah, the kid wrote a Natural OS into the Strike some way back,” she’d been told by Tony in an oh-can’t-believe-you-didn’t-know-that-tone when she’d confined her worries about being attacked now that the kid was down with a fever. “He just has the Strike cause he’s, no offence to the Commander, the better pilot. Priorities, ya know.”

She hadn’t known, but she was starting to suspect. Rumour had it he demolished the entire ZAFT fleet upstairs in the few minutes between launching and landing on the Archangel with a badly damaged Duel.

No one even seemed surprised when it came up, the mechanics hadn’t even panicked when the kid hadn’t returned before Phase Three. They’d just set up the gear they’d need to retrieve the Strike, the Duel and the Buster (which the Commander had dropped on them before returning), and somehow without anyone calling their ship doctor along with a squad of other crewmen had arrived with stretchers, IVs and ice packs. All of them waiting in the wings, not the faintest bit of doubt anywhere.

With a sigh, Sarah separated from her fellow newbies who’d gone back to studying. “I’ll make sure he arrives safely,” she announced, gaining a number of thumps ups as she followed after the kid and ended up waiting in front of the changing room.

“Tori!” Chirped the pet when the kid emerged, taking off and flapping down the corridor. Sarah send an appreciative gaze after it, well aware of complex the little machine must be for it to work equally well in in zero-grav and on Earth.

“Sarah-san,” the kid pulled up short.

Sarah grinned. “Just making sure you don’t get lost on the way. To the infirmary.”

With a sigh of long suffering exasperation, the kid acquitted. “Thanks, but it’s unnecessary. I understand that everyone’s only looking out for me, so it’s really fine.” He smiled a bit as Tori circled back around and landed on his offered hand. “They’re just teasing me because they can.”

…Well, Sarah didn’t know about that. So far she was under the impression that the kid could and would sneak some work in when no one was looking. But on second thought it was very well possible that the kid did, in fact, take to bed rest graciously (aside from, understandably, Level One) and everyone just kept poking at him for the fact that he had, in fact, been grounded.

It was very well something the Archangel crew would do. And it would be a subtle enough convention that she and her fellow newbies didn’t catch on to it.

On the_ other_ other hand, she also wouldn’t put it past the kid to think that he was being a good patient despite being anything but.

Constant supervision.

She might see where that idea came from.

She might also see how the crew would turn some casual keeping-an-eye-on-youngest-most-high-risked-member into way-exaggerated babying.

Yeah, she could definitely see the mechanics and the Commander do that. Just for fun.

“Better safe than sorry, kid. But hey, look forward to getting out. Just a little spoiler, but there’s this system for the Strike – using the Zero’s pods if you can believe it- that everyone really wants your opinion on.”

The kid stopped, eyebrows shooting up. “The pods. Of the Moebius Zero. For the Strike?”

Sarah had been unable to believe her eyes too at the last engy-team-meet, same as Rick and Jean and a handful of other transfers, but the rest of the mechanics had just nodded along, commented, criticized and _hadn’t even needed a damn explanation_ of that so-called DRAGOON System.

That was what she’d been studying, by the way.

An explosion shook the ship. The Lieutenant’s voice warned for all hands to brace for impact. Sarah moved a bit closer to the kid, just in case, and there was a twist of anxiety in her stomach, but for the most past she’d already been thoroughly infected by the Archangel’s blasé attitude (she wasn’t quite there yet where she was just as aware as if she were sitting on hot coals like the rest of them, but she was getting there).

They continued their conversation. “I know how it sounds, but that’s how it is. A brilliant kind of idea, as if you needed the additional firepower, but it’s definitely something to chew on –“

“The DRAGOON System?” The kid wanted to know, small smile playing around his lips knowingly. “I know it.”

Sarah shut her mouth with a click. How did he know it? He hadn’t been there when it was presented. She side-eyed him suspiciously. Did he hack the cameras? Or was it an idea already bouncing around before the battle upstairs?

“I like the idea, but would you mind reminding everyone that it’s only usable in space? We’re on earth for now. Do you think everyone would mind prioritizing the Duel and Buster before that?” He asked her, honest-to-god wondering. As if him pointing in a direction wasn’t akin to starting a race in that direction.

The _Archangel _was crazy. Their Coordinator civilian-turned-volunteer mobile suit pilot was only an Ensign, not even a commissioned one, yet _everyone _listened to what he had to say.

Amongst the mechanics that might be okay, what with them being basically the crew that supported his services. Close cooperation and some direction on what he could deal with and what not was to be expected.

But the rest of the ship did it too. Even the Captain (when she was out of sight of her Lieutenant)!

The kid said no to something, then it was no.

The kid said maybe, then it was up for grabs.

The kid said yes, then it was yes.

She couldn’t imagine a more screwed up chain of command if she tried.

The kid, freakishly, seemed to have no idea of this whatsoever. He was brilliant, keen-eyed, very empathetic and understanding, and _he had no idea._

And _Sarah_ had _no idea_ why he had that sort of influence.

Good for the ship was that the kid had the tendency to only rarely offer his opinion straight up. She hadn’t actually seen him say ‘no’ yet. Only some polite suggestions like now.

Sarah buried her head in her hands. “Oh god, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I can’t believe _no one_ thought of that.” Crazy ship, where was the common sense? “Space units only, of course. Yeah, sure I’ll pass that along.”

And she’d defend the kid if someone thought to accuse him of ‘working’ over this. If they wanted the kid nailed and bored and doing nothing, then they had to prove they could do without him.

_Crazy._

Ship.

She couldn’t believe that actually stood in question.

And this was the ship she was stuck on and that determined if she lived or died. A ship with an incredibly important mission of delivering the Strike and the Archangel and their data to Alaska.

(On the way it just so happened that by the way this was going that the _Strike _arriving in Alaska would have little more than cosmetic similarities with the one that left Heliopolis. Epic mission failure.

But it was for the sake of survival!

Still. The crew charged with the protection of the data was gleefully taking it apart….)

(Additionally, if she seriously started to think about what the mechanic crew was pinning to the drawing board for the _Archangel_ then she might start grinning like a loon, so she Didn’t. Think. About. Turning. The. Ship. Into. A. One. Ship. Army. She _didn’t!_)

(But it sure would come in handy now, she thought irritable as the strongest explosion yet send her stumbling. One ship army.)

“What’s taking the Commander this long.” Sarah grumbled as she clung to the wall (and carefully kept an eye on the kid). “I thought he said he wasn’t an amateur.”

The kid was as blithely unconcerned as anyone apparently when he wasn’t out in the thick of it. “The choppers are probably giving him trouble. Waltfeld-san’s people will know how to use the terrain to their advantage. If it’s serious, Captain Ramuis’ll call,” he mused and started walking again, _suppressing a yawn_. “I’ll just go back to the infirmary. And sleep.” A bit sullenly he added, “I do actually like being on vacation, you know. I don’t get why everyone keeps teasing me.”

“Tori!”

Crazy ship.

But with excellent chances at survival.

She’d take it.


	8. Blink, and meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinn is trying to learn from his mistakes. This does not yet include _not _ finding someone (less morally corrupt) to latch on to and tell him what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shinn now has time and place for Positive Character Development. And he needs it.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come along.”

A scornful snort came from beside her. “Yeah, right. You can’t be trusted on your own.”

“_Excuse_ me? That from you, Mr. I-can’t-control-my-temper?! Besides, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“_I’m_ not a politician. No one cares if _I _snap at people! Unlike a _certain someone_.”

“Ha! Yeah, right!” Before she could get swept up in an argument, she turned her attention up front. “I mean it, Kisaka. I could have come alone.” _Would have been simpler, in fact. But I’m not telling you that. _

Kisaka gave her a pointed, dubious look through the rear mirror somehow without twitching a muscle. Shinn, disinterested in everything but his screen and needling Cagalli, was probably not all that helpful in making her point either.

If she thought that getting a thirteen-year old being alert would have convinced Kisaka to let her make this trip around half the world, she’d have done something to blackmail Shinn into pretending to be interested in her safety.

Fact was though, that her bodyguard had no idea that this civilian that seemed to have popped up in her life and that she had allegedly a long time friendship with happened to be trained to ZAFT Red standards and could probably, in fact, guard her. If he wanted.

He didn’t obviously, and if the two of them had been alone she wouldn’t have put up with being guarded either – she did have combat experience after all.

Shinn’s presence probably made Kisaka all the more reluctant to even so much let her ten meters away from him. Not that he thought Shinn would harm her (went to show what he knew, sadly), but because he didn’t trust them one tiny bit in regards to their schemes.

Another point for never, ever mentioning to him that he was ferrying them around Barnadia cause she knew that Blue Cosmos was around here somewhere, and it was the best lead they had.

Cagalli wasn’t a hacker after all.

Shinn, despite aceing the required programming courses, was also pretty far from a hacker.

In Orb, where Blue Cosmos wasn’t tolerated and where so many networks overlapped two amateurs like them could spend a year and not find a hint of the organization.

Now in Bernadia on the other hand…

Add in some Orb-based-_Archangel_-staff-provided handy little device that looked like a normal laptop but was actually three-and-a-half years more advanced…

Take advantage of some convenient foreknowledge-like hunch…

And here they were, trying to find a Blue Cosmos server.

It was boring as hell.

It was annoying as hell.

She was basically only around to provide the means for Shinn-the-Orb-civilian to travel.

It was tempting as hell.

Her stomach growled, making Shinn shoot her a scornful glare (annoying little brat) and Kisaka sigh. “I’ll head to Point B, then shall I.”

“Kebabs for late lunch,” agreed Cagalli, not even blushing despite the fact that being hungry didn’t make her feel any more useful. Point A was their stay, Point B their daily lunch place.

To Bernadiya she’d been only a couple of times but not far from here were Tassil, Moula and the other towns. The Desert Dawn was nearby, alive and fighting and dying in a useless battle where ‘the only weapons they had were their feelings’. Kisaka hadn’t mentioned his home with a single breath.

Ahmed might be there. If he hadn’t been killed yet.

Once she’d returned from space she’d declined going world hopping, instead noising her way into politics and military. It was important. It was what she had to do, not only as the princess of Orb but also for the world.

That didn’t make it any less bitter or painful.

When she’d heard that the Archangel had dropped around here (on purpose or accident, who knew), she’d actually felt relief. Followed by an almost sickening onset of guilt. Commander Waldfelt was a staunch ally and good friend. Even in his treatment of the Desert Dawn rebels he had never been anything but as kind as his position permitted.

Feeling glad that Kira dropped in his backyard – Kira, who’d killed his love, who’d single handedly destroyed his unit, who’d crippled him– was repulsive and evil.

That was another reason she was here. Doing what she could to migrate damage. In the unlikely case that Kira wasn’t already on top of that himself.

Disabling a good dozen mobile suits made her near 100% certain that it was (not to mention the utterly unfamiliar situation with the Eighth Fleet), but she couldn’t know for sure. Which was another reason she was here.

Wanting to see the Archangel and the boy who’d saved her (the one who was registered as Strike’s pilot as according to the information about the Heliopolis refugees that Admiral Halberton had provided) was the one reason why her father had been unable to even disagree. Useful things, guilt trips.

“Stop.” Shinn suddenly leaned forward, bored gaze turning intense as he stared at his screen. His tapping fingers picked up speed as Kisaka slowed the jeep near the sidewalk.

Cagalli looked around, trying to be as inconspicuous as someone of her skin colour could be in this part of the Earth. As far as she could see, nothing looked suspicious. The people on the sidewalk didn’t have the evil gleaming in her eyes as she still sometimes expected of Blue Cosmos. Mothers and their children ran errands, men too were busy with one thing or another, and the occasional ZAFT soldier didn’t garner more than a hooded glare.

They were in one of the less developed areas of Banadiya, so the buildings weren’t taller than two stories and lacked the occasional colourful decorations that were designed to catch tourists in less troubled times. None of the buildings had a Blue Cosmos symbol hanging over their door, obviously.

She took a glance at Shinn’s screen but was unsurprised to find that it didn’t help her at all in terms of what they’d have to look out for. For all she knew, Shinn could have merely found a wireless comm, not a hardware server. In either case what she had to watch out for changed.

“Damn it!” Shinn smacked the screen shut in frustration. “The whole thing was useless.”

“What?”

He shot her a glare, no doubt blaming her for whatever. “It’s an isolated server. And what’s on it is in code. This doesn’t help at all!” Running both hands through his hair, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Damn it..”

Pursing her lips, Cagalli looked away from his emotional display. While she had just as much invested in throwing a wrench in Blue Cosmos’ plans, it was a whole lot less personal for her.

“If you’d tell me what you’re after, I might be able to help,” Kisaka suggested, twisting to look at them directly.

Shinn snorted.

Yeah, no kidding. Kisaka was no hacker either and what ever knowledge he had about Blue Cosmos was Orb military intelligence. That didn’t help them. At all.

She sighed. “Just get us to some good kebabs.”

Disapproval at their continued silence fairly radiating off him, Kisaka set the jeep in motion again. Sullenly, Cagalli watched the town pass by them.

Distantly she wondered if ZAFT had any idea about the Blue Cosmos nest in their midst, and then considered that, knowing Waltfeld, they probably did. If it was him, she’d even say that the only reason Kira and she met him that day in civvies was because he was playing personal bait. Previously informing his troops optional.

She sighed, turning her head towards their future plans now.

“Cagalli,” said Kisaka in that look-pay-attention-sort of tone that wasn’t all that different from his usual one. Lest he draw attention towards something.

She glanced at where he indicated, and almost did a double take.

Shinn, having caught the tone as well, military trained that he is, had his eyes widen as they passed the café. “No way. Something Attha luck didn’t ruin, I don’t believe it.”

Cagalli jabbed her elbow in his side while, without promoting, Kisaka slowed the jeep and she jumped out, Shinn following. “I wanna talk to him for a bit, Kisaka.” Without you to overhear, she meant.

Kisaka’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll find a place to park the car,” he said, the only concession he was willing to make.

Cagalli grimaced. That gave them what? Three minutes?

“He saved my life, he’s hardly going to be a threat,” she grumbled, but knew she wouldn’t get more, so she left him to it and approached the table where Shinn was just joining her brother.

Kira himself also did a double take before breaking into a smile.

“- believe it. I’ve told more lies in the last few weeks than in my entire life. It’s a fucking mess, and the one person I’m stuck with is Attha,” Shinn was just complaining as Cagalli pulled a chair over.

“You’re eating your kebab wrong,” she accused.

“What the hell,” said Shinn, not appreciating her cutting in, and Kira grimaced.

With a pronounced sigh, he obediently took the chilli sauce and put some on his food. Nodding in approval, Cagalli promptly stole his plate. 

“…I see you’re doing well,” he observed drily. Cagalli shrugged, mouth full.

Reaching for his water, Kira smiled at them. “I somewhat expected to see Cagalli here, but Shinn too. That’s a surprise.”

“It was this or being stuck in Orb,” Shinn told him, not without bitterness. “Attha said she might see you, and if she’d come alone she’d have messed it up.”

Cagalli shot Shinn a glare and Kira tried to hide a smile behind his glass. Water. Not even tea. Uncultured jerk.

“We only landed here by accident. How’d you know to come here?” Kira asked, looking curiously at Cagalli.

“Hmph. The disaster that was the battle between the Eighth Fleet and Le Creuset’s Command is world news. If you’re, you know, someone who can get their hands on military intelligence,” she replied drily. “You made quite a mess.”

“…it was the best solution we could come to. Athrun tried what he could too, but with our current machines…”

Athrun. Athrun. Cagalli’s belly flipped and her heart skipped a beat. Athrun. Kira wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t _Athrun_.

“I miss _Destiny_,” moaned Shinn in agreement. He looked genuinely sad.

“Hmm,” murmured Kira. “If _Destiny_ and _Freedom _were never needed it would be best, but…”

Shinn shot him a sceptical look. “Is that possible, Kira-san?”

“I think it would be best aim for such a future,” was Kira’s non-answer.

“What’s the Archangel gonna do?” Cagalli wanted to know. “You said it was an accident landing here…”

Kira sipped a bit of water, gaze wandering in the distance. “There’s not much we can do right now. The _Archangel_ needs to be put on a dry dock before she can be upgraded to what we need, and no upgrades can give the _Strike_ power I need. At the moment even if we shouted for peace, our voices won’t get heard. Our best option is, sadly, to head for Alaska at the moment.”

“You can’t be serious.” Flabbergasted, Cagalli almost dropped the kebab.

Shinn added, for once in rare agreement with her, “all the combat data – we learned in the Academy…” Cutting himself off, suddenly unsure of how accurate their lessons were and unwilling to voice that the development of the Strike Dagger series was a result of Kira-san’s actions. 

“Alaska won’t have any of my or the Archangel’s data,” Kira promised, not smiling and gaze as serious as he ever got. “I’m writing a virus…” He shook his head. “We’re hoping it won’t come to Spitbreak, but realistically none of us have the influence to stop it, and it should already be in motion, right? It’ll be dangerous being there, but there were so many people…”

Cagalli grimaced. None of them had any political clout. The Archangel, the Strike (Freedom and or Justice) hadn’t earned the right of attention yet. Even if they defected and screamed for peace, they would be only cowardly defectors without meaning.

A reputation that none of them ever wanted, Kira least of all, was missing now, and it tied their hands.

Sourly, Shinn stared at the table in front of him. “It’s all Blue Cosmos’ fault. And, Kira-san, _you_ can’t go to Alaska.” The young Coordinator’s gaze darted to Kira, eyeing him in an evaluating and calculating way. If he was considering how to keep Kira-san from going even against his will, then that was nothing that needed to be voiced.

Kira sighed. “I know. But until shortly before…we took the _Buster _and the _Duel _on board after the last battle, and Yzark and Dearka are both children of Supreme Council members. ZAFT might come after the Archangel all the harder…though maybe...”He drifted off in thought.

“And even if not, you’ve already got ZAFT scared witless. Meaning as good a pilot as the Captain is, you’ve gotta be there,” concluded Cagalli drolly. “Well shit, there goes kidnapping you back to Orb.”

“…Um. What.” Wide eyed, Kira’s gaze darted from her to Shinn as though looking for reassurance, but the little brat only scoffed in Cagalli’s direction, scornfully saying, “Orb hypocrisy at its finest.”

Cagalli rolled her eyes. “We’ve got a few mechanics from the Archangel in Orb. Chief Simmons is on cloud nine, even though I think she thinks the guys are on some sort of drugs to come up with their ideas.” The corners of her mouth twitched in a half-smile, half-frown. “Problem is, all the potential upgrades won’t ever make it past paper without a functioning OS. No use making our Astrays fancy if they can’t be used, see.”

“Oh.” Kira’s mouth formed a perfect O before he pressed his lips tightly together, the corners of his eyes tightening as he processed the very troubling implications. His expression grew only more sad. “...oh. I see.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Kira shook his head. “Don’t be. I understand.” From the tone of his voice it was very much not fine at all, though.

Morgenröte was a productive and effective part of Orb, invaluable even. There was very little the integrated company could not do, developing revolutionary technology, further advancing it and incorporating the best abilities of both Coordinators and Naturals. It was Morgenröte that had first conceived and produced the Phase-Shift armour, the beam weapons and first given form to the archtype ‘Gundam’. Yet despite all it’s services, the one thing that Morgenröte lagged behind PLANTs was the ability to make their machines movable for their pilots.

The Earth Alliance, stealing the military secrets and bullying their way behind the sacred borders of Orb stood no better in this endeavour. Even if they had the plans to make mobile suits, if only Coordinators could pilot them it mattered nothing.

Orb had solved this problem by borrowing Kira, the boy who’d majored in programming in Heliopolis and whose professor had already taken advantage of his gifts then to develop weapons. Dropping projects and theories on him under false pretence, Professor Kato had made Kira part of something he should never have been a part of.

Kira, backed in a corner and unable to think of anything but doing everything he could to protect the Archangel, unable to even protest his services being bartered away, had cooperated and under his guidance Morgenröte had finally reached the step where Orb’s mobile suits were combat ready.

Kira, who hated everything connected with war and weapons, who’d been crushed under the weight of his gifts and their use for war and bloodshed, had been an Orb resident then, despite being enlisted in the Earth Alliance.

That his own country had used him like that must have been painful, yet another thing at the time that choked him with an unforgivable grip. Yet, it had been a country whose ideals he believed.

_Do not attack, do not let be attacked, do not interfere._

Unlike Orb, the Earth Alliance had no such strong spirit. In their hands, combat ready mobile suits brought death and more war.

Orb had been the first nation with a Natural OS.

Because of its coveted strength, Orb’s security was tight. But as history had proven, there were people willing to sell Orb and its secrets out. Even high up.

The OS Kira had developed for Orb was the prototype all Natural OS were based on.

And Kira knew it.

If he wrote it again, there was very little that could be done to prevent it from falling into the EA’s hands.

And Kira knew it.

Yet, Orb must be able to protect itself.

It was the only bastion of peace in the world in a conflict that kept going off the rails.

Even should Kira not give them the means to arm themselves, it would make only little difference. Sooner or later someone else would write an OS for Naturals. It might be Orb. Chances stood it would be a country that was part of the EA.

Kira’s program had accelerated mass produced EA mobile suits, not made it possible. Both the Strike’s combat data and the OS arriving in Alaska with the _Archangel_, the one thing that he’d fought so hard for, had killed for, had tried to kill Athrun for, that Atrhun had almost killed him for, had been one event with nearly unparalleled consequences.

Cagalli’s brother knew it. When he’d put together what he’d inadvertently done..._caused_, even though it had _never_ been his fault...

She’d never seen him so destroyed, not even after Mendel, not even after Flay. And Athrun had been_ so_ furious….(at Orb, at the world, at everyone, at her. _How _dare_ you use Kira for that-!_)

Sadly, Shinn’s Academy lessons based on conjecture were all too accurate.

Kira blew out a slow grounding breath. “I understand,” he said again quietly. “I’ve already written one for Muu-san for when I’m...unable to pilot the Strike. It’s just one more thing.”

Shinn glowered at her as though it was her fault that Kira was in this position.

“I’ll watch it carefully,” she promised. Once the Archangel stopped by Orb it would be on. Fortunately, she had an idea where to start looking.

Kira nodded. “Please do. Do you think you could come by the Archangel? So you can take the OS back with you?”

Huffing a breath, she replied, “I don’t think so. The excuse I gave my father for coming here was that you were dropped here. He and Kisaka didn’t buy that, not entirely, especially since Shinn’s along. But now that we ran into you even that flimsy reason is gone.”

A frown flickered over Kira’s face. “Are you-”

“Speaking of,” Cagalli stood up suddenly, eyes on an approaching figure. Her mostly eaten kebab would have to wait. “I can buy you a few minutes, so if there’s something you need to discuss, do it now.” Kira and Shinn turned their heads to follow her line of sight, finding Kisaka taking an approach that he probably thought was subtle. When she’d really been the age she looked, she wouldn’t have noticed him.

It wasn’t that Kisaka was sneaking around or anything like it, not it broad daylight. But it was amazing what a bit of body language, casualness and approach vector could do when you weren’t the only person around. Kisaka was doing great, blending in. Just not great enough. 

The two Coordinators watched her go. Cagalli used the chance to glance around the cafe, but found no man in a suspicious flower print shirt and sunglasses, so she assumed that her brother and his little minion would be doing fine without her.

Smiling sunnily, knowing full well that it would put Kisaka on guard like nothing else, she put her hands on her hips as she came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve got somewhere I want to go.”

Kisaka’s eyes flickered behind her to the boys, caught between a rock and a hard place. It was obvious that if he wanted to find out what was up with her lately, he ought to listen in on Kira and Shinn, Cagalli plainly offering herself up as a distraction. Yet if she wanted to separate from them, then Kisaka had to follow because she was his principal. He shot her a narrowed, unimpressed stare that told her this was not over yet.

Cagalli made a mental note to start scrubbing for bugs. But meanwhile she was going to take a walk through Banadiya.

As she left the street, she took one glance back to the table. Shinn had slid down in his chair a bit, though she couldn’t see his expression with his back to her, his shoulders were curved down. Her brother’s expression as he said something was kind and understanding.

They’d be fine. It’d been a long time since Shinn had expressed any interest in killing Kira, and far from it her brother was one of the few people he actually showed respect to.

Cagalli had a suspicion why that was, and that made all the more important that she not be around for a discussion like this. She was not someone Shinn would even allow himself to show any emotions other than scorn and anger to.

In Orb he was without friends, without anyone to contact that he trusted, and surrounded by the family he lost violently. Reeling from her own father’s sudden reappearance in her life, she understood where he came from even though she’d had come to terms with his death and had closure. She was surrounded by family and allies and people she trusted.

In contrast, Kira was probably the first person Shinn met that he really trusted since this crazy situation started. Weeks in emotional upheaval, all alone...

Throw in the fact that Shinn was still crawling his way back up from rock bottom and he was really someone to feel sorry for. (If only he weren’t such a brat.)

(“I can’t tell you what’s right,” Kira was saying unbeknownst to her. “We can only do what we believe is right and hope that it turns out well, Shinn.” Smiling gently, he prompted, “What do you believe is right?”

But Shinn couldn’t answer that, his mouth dry. Doubts came bubbling up stirred on by emotions that he’d been trying hard to bury for weeks now, “I don’t know. How can I tell - ? What if I just mess it up -” He bit his tongue before adding _again,_ “I don’t know what to do.” He admitted uselessly, feeling frustrated and weak, bile almost gathering in the back of his throat as he remembered Rey saying as though he stood right next to him “_Don’t hesitate. It’s a weakness._”

For the span of a heartbeat he was back in that moment, sweat drenched and with the blood of someone’s little sister and someone who’d been a friend on his hand.

_“It’s a weakness.”_

_“You can’t protect anything like that.”_

He shoved it all down before his weakness could be noticed, determined to ignore it _ignore itignoreitignoreit until it goes away, _but then he remembered where he was and what he was _not_.

Kira-san watched him, those too-seeing eyes sad but understanding. Waiting, as Shinn fought with himself. Letting him find himself.

Again something like nausea stirred in Shinn’s gut, for a different reason than before and he clenched his jaw.

Kira-san smiled in response, noticing, and glad that Shinn was back. “The truth is, Shinn,” he continued after a while, “that no one knows what’s right before they do it. The trick is just noticing when something is wrong. Then you try something else.”

_But I didn’t notice! I didn’t notice when I almost killed my friends! I didn’t notice when I was being used! I didn’t notice when we repaired and shot the weapon that had just killed millions! _A voice in Shinn’s head shouted back while the rest of him wanted more than anything for Kira-san to give him an answer.

But Kira-san wouldn’t. Kira-san never told him what to do. He always expected Shinn to make his own decisions and his own judgements. And if Shinn didn’t agree with something, then he wanted Shinn to speak up.

Shinn didn’t want to. He wanted to have orders he could follow without being afraid. He didn’t want to have to think about what he did himself, because if he did, then he noticed how much he _didn’t_ before. And then he drowned in blood. _A destroyer_, Athrun had warned him.

But Kira-san, while kind in a way Shinn had never known a person could be, was uncompromising on this point. Not only of him, of everyone he commanded, but Shinn struggled with it the most.

“But what if I choose _wrong?_” He had to know, even if he hated how exposed admitting to this (fear) weakness felt.

_“Trust in the Chairman, he won’t lead you wrong,”_ said Rey’s voice in his head.

“Then you are not alone, Shinn. You only have to look and ask, someone will reach back. That’s what friends and comrades are for.”

It made him sick sometimes to notice how different Kira-san was from Rey. (_Were we ever friends, Rey? Did you only use me? Did you ever care? I cared. I want you to have cared, but I can’t tell anymore._)

The pilot of Freedom had never been a monster. Shinn had hated him and almost killed him. Had almost killed his best friend too. And his love, and his home, and...well, his future too, he supposed.

Yet Kira-san didn’t resent him one bit. Kira-san cared, and it was so much easier to see with him than with Atrhun, who had cared just the same but had been so bad at getting it across without being annoying. Kira-san wasn’t afraid of showing or telling his emotions. And he would never, ever take advantage of any sort of displayed weakness. Even in the middle of a life and death fight, he would not.

(Shinn had, _oh_ how he had. Taking advantage of Kira-san’s obvious unwillingness to harm him to kill him had seemed so_ right_. - and Shinn was back to feeling sick with shame, doubt immobilizing him.)

“That sounds like a mighty heavy topic for such a nice day, kids. Almost as more important than _that._ That – I can’t even look at it -”

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone who'd been alive and on board the Archangel and Minerva time-traveled. Meaning that those workers and security who died didn't. And neither did those like Sai who were not on board.


End file.
